Dark Room
by ForeverDarkly
Summary: When an angered ghost kills several female art students and begins to sets its sight on an exgirlfriend of Dean's, will Tate be able to call and get the brothers help before she winds up just like the other girls in the paper?
1. Death in the Safe Light

**Disclaimer:** I only own Tate, who you'll meet in the next chapter, and anyother OCs that are scattered through out the story. I don't own Sam, Dean or anything else Supernatural related, it all belongs to the WB, but a girl can dream. If anything is wrong with the whole film/picture developing process you have to understand I've only taken a year of photography at my school and my photo teacher sucks, so if there's anything wrong I apologize in advance. This idea came to me while I was in the darkroom and more about the ghost will be explained in chapters to come.

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Chapter 1- Death in the Safe Light

San Francisco, California

Students hurried across the San Francisco Art Institute's sprawling campus and attempted to get out of the rain by either ducking under awnings, slipping back into the school buildings or jumping into cars. One girl, followed by her boyfriend, ran toward the photography department's building with a copy of the school's weekly newspaper over her head and splashed through the puddles in the grass as she made her way to her destination.

"Lauren, wait up!"

"No Jake, we talked about this. I have to get all of my projects handed into Professor Bowen by Monday."

"Its Thursday, you have time."

"Not when I don't come to school all weekend!" She snapped as she yanked open the glass door and slipped into the cool building. Right away she felt a chill skate over her wet skin and rubbed her damp arms, Jake coming up behind her.

"Do you want me to stay or come back for you in a little while?"

"Come back and pick me up, you'll only be a distraction if you stay." She said giving him a saucy grin and a kiss on the lips.

"I'll be back in like an hour and a half."

"Good, I should get most of the work done." With that said the two went their separate ways and Lauren headed down to her professor's classroom. Professor Carl Bowen was an older man with an ex-wife and two kids who lived out in Malibu, his new young wife lived only a few minutes off campus in his upscale condo. Seeing Lauren come into his class, he looked up from the stack of student taken pictures and smiled slightly. The girl was dedicated and determined, the traits of a great photographer.

"Hello Miss Mills."

"Hey Professor. Is the darkroom open?"

"It's open and set up. Go right ahead." Watching the young woman go back into the darkroom, he went back to his work.

In the darkroom, Lauren went to the enlarger that she normally used and pulled out her sheet of negatives. On this sheet were all pictures of the beaches that were open to her use around her home and the school. That was what she loved about California, the sand and surf. It was far from the snow and mountains in Colorado. Picking the negative with the picture of two small children playing in the sand, she put it into the negative carrier and adjusted the enlarger so it fit the 5x7 frame she had laid on the table beneath the light that poured out of the machine. Slipping a piece of paper into the frame, she set up the timer and counted down ten seconds with the annoying beeping the small timer gave off. A moment later she took her soon to be developed picture and dropped it into the developing chemicals. She repeated this process a few more times and forty five minutes later, she had five developed pictures sitting near her things. As she went to put in another sheet of paper into the chemicals, she heard something; the sound of the dark room door opening. Looking up, Lauren saw nothing, shrugged and went back to her work. But when it happened again and the door opened a little, she moved from her place. Sometimes Jake or her good friend Mara would drop by and keep her company while she worked, so she figured it was one of them and shut the door again.

The door to the darkroom was a solid wood panel about five inches think and very heavy, it was a big door and nearly hugged the woodwork above it allowing only a sliver of light to slide in near the white floor tiles. Anyone in there knew when the door would open, the door knob got stuck and was too close to the door frame, so when people on the outside went to open it, they usually found the knob jammed, turned it hard to the right and hit their knuckles. So everyone heard the small sting of curses slip out of the visitor's mouth. But when the door opened for a third time, Lauren heard no curses or mumbled threats at the door. Just the squeal of the hinges and the small whoosh of air from the outside classroom. Looking up, she saw no one standing there and as she went to shut it again, she felt a huge gust of wind blow through her, knocking her backwards and causing the door to slam shut. Outside, Professor Bowen heard the rather loud slam and jumped to his feet, unsure of what was going on.

"Miss Mills? Miss Mills? Lauren?" He called from outside the darkroom and found his hand moving toward the knob, only to find the door locked instead of normally being jammed. When a scream came from inside the room, he threw his shoulder into the door several times and on the last try, it flew open. Flipping the white light on, ignoring the fact that there is safe light only paper littered about, Bowen needed to find out about the scream.

"Lauren?" Her things were near an enlarger on the right side of the room, but where was she? Walking around the small island/dry sink like counter that housed the developing chemicals, he saw a flip flop covered foot that led to a pair of long legs, shorts, a S.F.A.I shirt, a pair of 'O' shaped lips, wide eyes and long black hair splayed out on the tiles. But what shocked the professor more, besides finding a most likely dead student in his darkroom, was the fact that her once tan skin was a sickly gray green color and was shriveled up, looking more like an unwrapped mummy than a lovely young woman.

"What the hell...?"


	2. Tatum

Chapter 2- Tatum

"Have you seen the headline in the San Francisco Chronicle, Tate?" Micah Rockwell asked as he breezed into the office he shared with his fellow journalist and good friend Tatum King.

"Was I supposed to? I don't work for the San Fran Chronicle, so unless it has to do with Boston or the Boston Herald, I probably didn't even bother reading it." She answered, her lavender colored eyes not leaving the flat screen of her computer and black painted nails kept bouncing from one key to another as she kept typing her new article. That was the one thing Micah loved about working for a newspaper; you got copies of every paper from every major city in the United States.

"Read this, it's interesting." He said, dropping the folded paper onto her desk. Her vivid eyes finally left her computer and darted toward him, her dark brown eye brow arched high.

"What's it about?"

"Another one of those darkroom deaths."

"Micah! Are you kidding me, that's what you bring me to read? Another one of those stupid accidental deaths in a college photo class?"

"This one is different." He told her as he pointed at the picture that accompanied the article. It was of what looked like a young woman, in her early twenties maybe shriveled up like a dried out apple that had sat too long in the sun.

"Gross, what is that?"

"Lauren Mills, dead college student."

"Gimmie a minute to read this."

_"Late Thursday afternoon another college student was found dead in her photography class dark room. Lauren Mills' body, found dried up as if it had been locked away in a coffin for years, was found by her professor, Carl Bowen. Bowen, 55, who has been teaching at the San Francisco Art Institute for nearly twenty five years, refused to give a direct statement but he said he heard a scream before finding his student, Mills 24, dead. The dark room door was then busted down by Bowen himself, head janitor Jerry Kirk said the door had been locked from the inside. "When I got there, I saw Carl draping a sheet over Miss Mills' body; she looked like she had been dead for years. But when I checked the door, it had been locked from the inside and the only way to lock it is with Carl's keys, he had them on his key ring on his belt loop. He never locked it during the day and neither did his students." Kirk said. Mills, an honor student with plans to be a journalist, was working on project in attempt to keep her grade above a 95 when she died. "I dropped Lauren off, I saw her an hour before she died. We had plans to go out later." Boyfriend and senior, Jacob Bast said before breaking down. Mills' death at the moment is not connected to the six similar deaths where the body was found shriveled up; Alyssa Rivers of Billings, Montana; Kelly Dans from Tampa, Florida; Sarah Right in Augusta, Maine; Parker Matthews in Santa Fe, New Mexico; Christine Williams of Seattle, Washington and Olivia Deacon from Nashville, Kentucky. Officials are still baffled about the six girls' mysterious deaths. Not further evidence in the previous cases have been brought to police attention."_

Folding the paper back up, Tatum turned back to Micah and raked a hand through her long auburn hair. She had a feeling that the police and all that were the wrong people to call in this situation, but Micah didn't have to know that part.

"So, what do you think?"

"That something killed her."

"That professor guy."

"I said something, not someone. And no, not him. Something else."

"What else? She was alone in the darkroom."

"How do you know that?" Tatum asked, unfolding the paper again and tearing at the article, picture and all.

"I'm friends with the guy who wrote the article, she was alone."

"But what about those other girls? The other ones that have died? Has there been anything new?"

"Nope, they all were waked and buried, close casket of course." Micah said smiling.

"Not funny. Don't you have work to do?" Shooing her friend away, she grabbed the article and scanned it into her computer. Once it was there, she signed onto the internet and searched through her email address book. Coming to the one she wanted, she pasted the newly scanned article there and typed a small message herself:

_"Giving you two something new to check out. It seems right up your alley Sam. It's not the first death that's happened and I have a feeling that it's not the last. Gimmie a call or email me back if you find out anything. Take care Sammy and watch the asshole for me, make sure he doesn't get himself killed._

_Love Tate."_

After sending it, she went back to her work; an article about the newest gallery opening for the art section of the paper and felt her mind wandering. She had known Sam and Dean Winchester since she was about eight, Dean was the same age as she was and Sam was four. Their fathers, John and Ben, both hunted the things that bumped in the night and passed it onto their children, even though Tatum didn't do it anymore. Her job was the most normal thing in her life; from the time she was ten till her twenty second birthday she hunted monsters, demons, ghosts and whatever else lingered in the shadows, her mother had been mauled by a Wendigo when she was six while they were on a family camping trip, she learned to shoot a rifle at age twelve, by thirteen she could drive a car and she had even dated Dean Winchester, pain in her ass and out of all the guys she had been with, he was the best in bed. Sam was the little brother she never had and loved him the way she imagined you'd love a sibling. Her father was somewhere with John, hunting down the things that took away their wives and unreachable by the children, not that it bothered Tatum; she had a better relationship with John than her own father. She had talked to John a couple weeks earlier when he was on his way to hunt something that was after him and the boys in Chicago; a daeva. She knew a lot about them, she had been chased by one when she was sixteen. But that was weeks ago and she hadn't heard from him since.

Hours later Tatum was packing up her things to leave, putting papers into her messenger bag and taking her camera with her when Micah showed up at her desk with a roll of film in hand

"Alex wants it developed by morning. Can you do it?"

"By hand or take it down to the drug store?"

"By hand."

"Bastard." Alex Kelly was her editor and liked to think he ran the paper because his uncle owned it and loved to boss Tatum around because she was one of the few woman that worked under him. Standing up, she put the film into her pocket and walked out, locking the office for the night. Walking home that night, the sun was still up at seven thanks to day light savings time, Tatum thought back to when she was a kid, being dragged all over the place only with Sam and Dean to keep her company while her father and John hunted monsters. She still hated moving around, that was why once she got to Boston she refused to move. She had come to Boston with about five thousand dollars; got herself a room at the Hilton and a week later got her job at the paper. The hotel manager let her move in there and they set up at payment schedule; that had been four years ago. Now at twenty six, she was finally adjusted to being in one place and a part of her feared moving again. Moving again meant going back to her old life and her old life was something she was not ready to re-accept. Coming to her hotel, she made her way in and then up to the ninth floor. She'd develop Alex's pictures in her master bathroom like she always did, using her bath tub and some storage containers to hold the chemicals, put the safe light bulb into the fixture in there and do her work.

The room she lived in was one of their suites, it had a master bedroom, a small kitchen, living room and her office was set up near the balcony doors. Dropping her bag near the couch, she grabbed the film and went to work. After developing it, she picked out a couple pictures to enlarge and bring into work the next morning. As she was about to go back into the bathroom, she heard her cell phone ring. With her water dampened film in hand, she rushed over to her bag and grabbed the small phone before it went to her voicemail.

"Hello?"

"You sound out of breath, whatcha doin' Tate?" Hearing the all too familiar voice that made her feel like she was sixteen again, she dropped her film and felt her upper lip curl.

"Dean I sent Sam the email, not you."

"Well, he wasn't here and I went online. Can't help it if I'm nosey and when I saw my girlfriend's email address popping up in my brother's mail box, I got a little curious." She could almost hear him grinning.

"First off, it's ex-girlfriend's email address and second, going through people's mail is against the law."

"I don't think it includes email yet, so technically I've done nothing wrong."

"Whatever, what do you want?"

"I was reading that article and you're right, it does sound like something for us to check out. Now, I was wondering, since it came across your desk, are you willing to come with me and Sam to check it out?" For someone who had broken up with Tate nearly eight years ago and hadn't really seen her in four, he sounded desperate.

"You want me to go out to California with you?"

"Not just me, Sam's gonna be there."

"No. No. No. No way in Hell am I driving across country with you in the back of that shitty Impala to check out some creepy deaths. I stopped doing that the day...the day _that _accident happened." Tate felt a knot form in her throat, she still wasn't ready to talk about what happened when she was sixteen and it had been almost ten years since then.

"I know, I remember that day. But you seem to know a little more about it than me and Sam do, please Tate before someone else dies."

"I'll think about it, give me a day or so." She said, feeling herself giving into him.

"I'll call you back tomorrow, same time."

"Fine." With that said she ended the call and tossed her phone onto the couch, knowing she'd lose it in the cushions again. Running a tired hand through her hair, she picked up the film she had dropped and reached for her scissors and cut the film into strips. As she cut the film she thought about going to California. It would mean joining the hunt again, taking up old habits again, carrying a gun loaded with rock salt bullets again, reopening old memories again and more importantly seeing Dean again. Tatum wasn't ready to see the man who broke her heart into too many little pieces revisit the night that shook her to her very core. She wasn't ready; she was barely able to sleep without a light on yet. Going to help them wasn't going to be good for her; it was only going to set her back.

With a tired sigh, she put the film into a negative sheet and headed toward her bedroom. Opening the closet doors, she pulled down a suit case and tossed it onto the bed. Unzipping it, she found that her travel iron and a few stolen soaps from the last hotel she stayed at were still in there. She'd put clothes in it tomorrow and be ready for Dean's phone call, but right now all Tatum wanted to do was sleep. And that's what she did; she curled up on the side of the bed far away from her suit case and hugged her pillow, clamping her eyes shut as soon as her head hit the silk pillow case. It was early still but she was going to need all the energy she could possess to handle the next few days.

"Going to see Dean." She mumbled as sleep finally took over.


	3. Reunited, Well Sort Of

Chapter 3- Reunited, Well Sort Of

Dean Winchester was by no means a patient man; he was never one to really plan out his next move and just went on impulse, but when Tatum called a week ago, two days after Dean had called her, and told them she'd be flying out to Los Angeles to meet them; Dean nearly hit the roof. He had fought with her for an hour saying while they'd be waiting for her another death could happen, but so far that theory didn't pan out. There hadn't been an eighth death or any other articles about the seven previous ones, so Dean had no choice, he had to wait for Tatum. So now parked in one of the huge lots outside LAX, he waited for Sam to return to the Impala with Tatum in toe. Her flight from Boston was supposed to get in at twelve forty five, they had gotten there at eleven and now it was inching on twenty after one. Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to figure out what changes Tatum was going to bring with her.

Dean and Tatum's history wasn't a faerie tale, story book romance or anything of the sort, it was a story all right; a long one. The two had dated when they were younger, from the time they were eighteen till they both were twenty two. Those four years held some of Dean's best and worst memories; it was the same for Tatum. There was fights, hushed promises, secret 'I love yous' screaming matches, too many sloppy drunken kisses, gifts and small trinkets that were still stored away in shoe boxes and several slaps that still stung Dean's cheeks. Hearing a knock on his window, Dean snapped up, eyes blazing and looked at Sam's smiling face outside. Beside his younger brother stood a brunette who's changed features he barely recognized. It had been four years since Dean and Tate had laid eyes on each other, when Sam left for Stanford, Tate flew to Boston and threw herself into a 'normal' life. She seemed taller to Dean and it wasn't because he was sitting or the possibility of her wearing heels, her hair was longer and had more red in it, the red almost over taking the brown; but it was her eyes that shocked him the most. The lavender gems that once had the power to hold his attention for hours seemed to fade and the spark that had once resided there was long gone.

"Dean? Dean, did you hear me?" Coming back from his thoughts he looked back up at Sam and shrugged. "I said unlock the doors!" Pressing the button on his right, he heard the doors unlock and waited for the two to get into the car. Sam took his normal seat next to him and Tate slid in behind Sam, throwing her duffle bag next to her.

Tatum looked up at Dean and Sam from her place in the back seat, her hand still wound around the duffle bag's strap and nervously bit her lip. She was waiting for a snide remark from Dean about her flight getting in a few minutes late, for her making them wait a couple days or for her leaving. But nothing came, only the sound of Impala roaring to life and flying into reverse.

"So Tate how was your flight?" Sam asked looking at her in the rear view mirror.

"It was okay, I've been on plane after plane for the past nine days."

"Why?"

"I rented a car and drove up to Maine, then from there I flew to Florida, then to Tennessee, New Mexico, Montana, Washington and then here."

"You were checking up on the other cases." Sam said.

"Yeah." She said simply her eyes searching for Dean's, but she found nothing.

"What kind of information did you get?"

"Basically the same crap, all of the girls were good kids, honor students, came from white bread middle class hardworking families, never got in trouble at school, had boyfriends and were damn good photographers. So why whatever this thing is that's killing them did it makes no sense." She told them and it was true, every person she had spoken with about one of the girls had said the same thing, they were good people.

"Do you have any idea of where to start?" Sam asked her, pulling her eyes away from starring at the back of Dean's head.

"I guess at the school, with that Professor guy." Tate answered as she played with the bag's strap some more and looked out the window of the restored car. Last time she had been in that backseat, she was sitting in the same place with her eyes starring out the same window and had been barely listening to what was going on around her. It was the night her and Dean finally called it quits.

_"So you're just leaving then?"A twenty two year old Dean Winchester asked a recently turned twenty two Tatum King, her eyes spilling over with tears and when this story would be retold, he'd always omit the part about him crying too. _

_"Dean, what choice do I have? I don't want to hunt _these _things any more. I can't stand it. I want out." _

_"You're going to leave me just like Sammy did?"_

_"He left you to go to school, I'm leaving you because if I don't, I don't think I'll ever have a chance to be normal again." _

_"You can't just go back to being normal after seeing all the shit we've seen."_

_"And that is exactly why I want out." The two didn't say much for a long time, but Dean did open the driver's side back door and slid into the front seat, his hands resting ontop of steering wheel. _

_"What about us?" Dean asked, looking back and counting the tears that fell down Tate's face._

_"There is no more us, there hasn't been an us for a long time De, not since that night the accident happened." She told him and then grabbed her purse. "I'll see ya around Dean." She said as she popped open the back door and disappeared into the dark. _

Tate was literally thrown from her thoughts as Dean slammed on the breaks and she went flyng into the back of Sam's seat. She let out a small yelp as she face connected with the vinyl covering the seat and let a few muffled curses escape her lips as she sat back, this time bringing her seat belt across her chest. Looking up, prepared to shoot Dean a very cold stare, their eyes met in the rear view mirror and she watched a small smirk tug on his lips.

"You okay back there Tate?"

"Peachy Dean, just peachy." She answered, a sacractic and smug grin playing on her lip gloss covered lips. Rolling her eyes, she curled up on the seat and rested her head on her bag, her eyes quickly falling shut. It had been a long nine days and she barely got any sleep.

Sam sat next to his brother and rolled his eyes at the small interaction between Dean and Tate. It was obvious that the two still felt something for each other and he knew it was more than the hatred Tate had told him she felt for Dean over the past couple of years. They had this weird connection that brought them closer than any other girl Sam had seen his older brother with. They both carried scars and secrets with them that not even Sam knew about and he would probably never know, unless there was a large amount of liquor involved. By the time Tate and Dean met when they were eight, the two had seen more in those short years than most people saw in all of their long lives. Tate carried the disappointment of not being everything her father wanted her to be and Dean brought similar baggage, scraping and crawling to be just as good as John. The two had so many similar issues that it confused Sam as to why they weren't together. Busted, broken, damanged and as very screwed up as they were, the two were perfect for each other.

"Look, she's asleep and it's a five hour drive to this art school, are we going to go straight there or start fresh tomorrow?" Sam asked Dean in a hushed voice, knowing Tatum was a light sleeper. It was from all the hunting she done with her father, attempting to wipe out all of the Wendigos; that was Ben King's mission.

"What do you think Sammy?"

"We're going straight there."

"Yep." Dean told him as he turned on the raido, keeping the volume to a dull roar as the beginning of a Black Sabbath song started. As Dean turned onto the highway, Sam took one last look at the sleeping vision from his past and then back to his brother.

"You know, you could try and talk to her."

"What's there to talk about? She broke up with me."

"You still love her."

"Sammy, I never told her I loved her when we were together, how do you know I still or ever loved her?" Dean knew that was a lie, but it was his lie and wad going to stick to it.

"You do love her, I can see it in your eyes."

"Whatever. We've got a long drive ahead of us and I really don't feel like talking about past relationships and all that other shit." He told Sam as he set his eyes on the road ahead.

Two hours later, after stopping to get gas and some junk to eat, Dean looked back at Tatum in the mirror and smiled. He prayed that Sam was too involved in reading a local newspaper to notice the look he gave her reflection. She was still as beautiful as he remembered.

"You know, she told me she wanted out of this the last time we really talked." He said more to the mirror than himself or Sam. "And look where she is, back here with us hunting some thing, some demon spirit. She swore she'd never come back."

"Tate always came back to us Dean, you know that. Even for those few weeks after the accident, she came back."

"She left me because of the accident, I think she blamed herself and me, but she took it on me and that's why she left."

"She didn't know how to handle it Dean, it was and still is a lot to take in."

"Can we change the subject?" Sam was right, it was still a lot to take in and he thought about the night that was literally the final straw between him and Tate everyday, just like he thought about his mother. Just this event was still crystal clear in his mind, unlike his kind of fuzzy memory of being four and watching his home go up in flames.

"You brought it up." Sam said laughing and going back to reading his paper.

As the sun started set around seven that night, Dean pulled into the San Francisco Art Institute's vistors parking lot and killed the engine. The Impala quieted itself with a faded whine and then nothing. Sam had fallen asleep an hour ago and with a punch in the shoulder, his eyes snapped open again, an angry tired glare lingered in his dark eyes.

"Wake Tate up, we're here." Dean said getting out of the car.


	4. More Pictures

In the next two chapters, I'm gonna explain what this "Accident" is. It was a really big deal for Tate, tore her and Dean apart and was the reason she moved. I'm still working all the little details out, but I think it's going to be good. So keep the reviews coming Bright Eyez

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Chapter 4-More Pictures

Tatum sat sideways in the front passenger's seat of the Impala, her feet resting on the asphalt below and a black eye liner pencil in her hand. She had been sitting there for a few minutes, redoing her make-up and fixing her hair; pulling it out of its braid and letting the long auburn waves to fall down her back. She kept both eyes on her reflection and her ears on the normal brother-bickering going on outside by the hood of the car. Sam and Dean had been going back and forth, snipping at each other as one decided which excuse to use so they could get into the college to see Professor Bowen. Dean had thrown out the idea of pretending to be students, but Sam quickly vetoed that one and then in turn, Sam's idea about being art critiques was shot down. As Tate capped her mascara and tossed it back into her purse, she dug out her newspaper ID and leaned over to the driver's seat. Honking the horn, she giggled when the two jumped and then laughed harder when Dean flipped her off.

"Was there are reason for that?" He yelled loud enough so she could hear him.

"Yeah, I know how we can get in." She said as she got of the car, grabbing her camera bag and equipment from the back seat.

"How?"

"Just follow my lead Dean and don't screw it up. Keep your mouth shut and don't ask any questions." She told him as she shoved her tripod into his chest and handed Sam the camera bag. "Drop the tripod Dean and I'll kill you."

A minute later the trio walked into the front entrance, Tate's press pass dangling around her neck and a warm smile on her lips. With two powerful strides, she stood in front of the receptionist sitting behind a wooden counter and dropped her purse down onto the polished surface. The woman behind the desk was an older woman thumbing through the latest issue of Cosmo and had an overly bored looked on her face. She was probably pulling the late shift and wanted nothing more than to go home, knowing college Tate thought, the night classes didn't end till at least nine. The woman still had another hour or so.

"Can I help you Miss?" The woman asked, she sounded bored.

"Yes. My name is Tatum King, I work for the Boston Herald. I write the local art column out there and usually do a piece on the Department Chair Person in a near by art school. Since taking on the Art Institute of New England, my editor has been sending me to the A.I.N.E's sister schools and your school happens to be my latest assignment. Now, I heard from my boss that Professor Carl Bowen in the head of the art department, is there anyway I can speak to him tonight?" She asked sweetly. The woman now starting thumbing through an appointment booking, showing Tate there Professor Bowen was free for about an hour and pointed her toward the art building.

Dean stood behind her and watched with a smile as she fell right back into old schemes, it was if he was watching a movie. Tate's voice never gave away the fact that she was lying, even thought her lie wasn't a far stretch from the truth. She had interviewed the department chair person at the New England school; even though he'd never tell her that he read the article. He read her column every Saturday morning, when Friday's paper was finally posted on the internet. She didn't have to know that he had printed out her column about going to Paris to see the Mona Lisa and now had it folded into a small square in his wallet, right behind his real ID. Tate's voice pulled him back to reality.

"Hey! Dean are you gonna stand there all night!" Tate yelled from the side door, Sam next to her holding it open.

The two had decided to cut across the courtyard to get to the art buildings while Dean was starring off into space. When Dean met up with them, Tate grabbed him by the hand and somewhat dragged him across the narrow stretch of grass that was littered with picnic tables. From the look on her face, it was as if she didn't even realize she had hold of his hand and didn't seem to notice Dean jump when her heavy silver thumb ring grazed his knuckles. When they got to the art building, she let go and raced up the steps, trotting down the hall muttering room numbers as she passed each door while the boys paused in the arched entrance.

"She scares me sometimes, always throwing herself into whatever she's doing." Sam mumbled.

"It's like nothing changed." Dean added as his little brother looked at him and smirked.

"I saw her grab your hand, you flinched."

"I did not! That damn ring she wears hit my fingers…"

"Whatever Dean." Sam said as he rolled his eyes and went to catch up to Tate. Tatum had disappeared into a classroom; her camera that was attached to a black leather strap slung over her shoulder and knocked on the door. Professor Bowen's head snapped up at the noise in his silent classroom and looked at the young woman in the doorway. She wasn't one of his students, but the press pass dangling around her neck gave her away.

"I don't know what Linda said to you, but I'm not talking to any more reporters." He said shortly and then went back to his work.

"Please Professor Bowen, just a few minutes of your time." Sam said coming up behind her.

"Ah, her loyal crew. All right, since you're all here you might as well come in." The professor ushered the three of them in, taking Tate's thin denim jacket and hanging it on the back of a student's desk. "I take it you're all here about Lauren's death."

"Yes sir we are. Can I just ask you a few questions?"

"Be my guest Miss…?"

"Tate King, these are my friends Sam and Dean." The professor nodded at the boys and shook Tate's hand.

"Did anything odd happen that afternoon?" Tate asked, but a prickling sensation on her shoulder caused her head to whip around at the familiar presence of something behind her, but only found Dean standing there; his arms crossed over her chest. Biting her lip, she turned her attention back to the professor.

"Nothing odd until Lauren showed up."

"What happened?" Dean asked, coming into the conversation for the first time. The professor recounted the young woman's entrance to his class and then told them about the door slamming.

"At first I thought Miss Mills pulled it shut rather too hard, the door sticks sometimes and I've been known to slam it, but this wasn't an ordinary slam. It sounded as if the wind did it. So I got up and went to see what was going on. The moment I tried to open the door, I swear on my mother's life, it locked itself from the inside. The only way to lock the door is with my keys, there's no hand turning lock anywhere on the door. I was standing there trying to get inside and then I heard Miss Mills' scream. When I finally got the door open it was too late. As I looked around the room, I found her body on the ground." He ended softly, toying with a stray thread on the hem of his dress sleeve. Tate looked to Sam, a question in her eyes and by habit, Sam knew what it was.

"Professor Bowen, would it be all right if Tate and Dean have a look in the dark room?" Sam asked him, taking a seat in one of the desks in front of his podium.

"No go right ahead. I trust you know your way around in a dark room Miss King?"

"I've been in one a time or two. Come on De." Tate knew that while her and Dean were sent to investigate the dark room, Sam would be outside asking the professor more questions. As she pushed open the dark room door, she felt something prick her shoulder again, but paid it no attention and headed in, Dean right behind her. Flipping on the white light, she saw that police tape still lined the area where Lauren's body had been found and Dean paid no attention to the yellow barrier. He was right in there where the outline of her body was.

"Dean! Get away from there!" She hissed as she walked over to an enlarger where a negative sheet still sat. Picking the sheet up and putting it in front of the light, she saw that the sheet was full of beach scenes; this must have been the last thing Lauren worked on.

"Aww Tate, calm down. Hey what's this?" Standing on her tip toes, Tate did have still had a shred of respect for the boundary the police put up and watched as Dean crawled under the large picture wash and pulled out a sheet of photo paper.

"Let me see, it's a picture." Taking the piece of paper from him, she dropped it into the chemicals and watched as a young man surfing appeared.

"It's nothing, just a guy."

"Well what about these?" He asked, handing her a couple more sheets of somewhat dirty photo paper.

"I have no idea, toss them in the developer too." She said as she rested her hand against the lip of the counter and watched the pictures begin to take shape.

Feeling warmth behind her, Dean had taking the position behind her, his hands almost on top of hers and his chin resting perfectly her shoulder. They fit together as if two pieces of a puzzle, yet they were both too stubborn and proud to admit they were great together. Something about having him there made Tate feel safe and as if she had gone back to being eighteen again when everything between the two of them never existed.Where the 'accident' never existed. The tension in her body seemed to ebb away and slowly, she allowed herself to lean back against his chest, her head placed right under his chin. If anyone dared to open that door, all they would see was a happy couple watching pictures, maybe of their last trip together, coming out. But that really wasn't there, all that was there was two souls fighting their minds and making themselves believe that the hatred they had yelled at each other was true.

"Look, there's something there." Dean whispered into her ear, trying not to ruin the moment. But the second a shape fully showed itself on the paper, Tate jumped from her place against his chest, a sigh slipping from Dean's lips as she stood up straight, and looked down at the liquid covered paper. Watching the lights and darks separate themselves, she saw a warped shape appear

"Claws? Dean, do you see this?" She asked as he stood back against her, looking down at the pictures.

"Yeah I do, what do you think it is?"

"A ghost maybe?"

"Pissed off ghost you mean." Turning around in his arms, only inches from his lips, she looked up at him and sighed. Any other time, she would've given in and kissed him, but this was business no matter how she felt.

"So do you think this is what killed those girls?" She asked, her voice wavering a bit.

"Must be." He said as the door swung open and Tate jumped into his arms. Hearing Sam laughing, Tate felt her face burn and quickly went back to the pictures.

"What's going on in here?" Sam asked, trying to hide his grin.

"Nothing Sammy! We're working!" Dean shouted, scrubbing his face with his hands and walked to the other side of the room, putting a good distance between him and Tate.

"Oh, that's not what it looked like."

"Sam, I swear to God."

"Knock it off you guys, Sam look at this." Tate said, breaking up yet another fight and handing Sam the pictures.

"Demon?" He asked, arching an eye brow.

"Maybe, but could we get something to eat, I'm starving." She said, putting the pictures away and walking out of the dark room. Dean's eyes followed her and Sam laughed.

"Shut up."


	5. Flashback

Ta-da! I give you the 'Accident'. Its not what I started with, but I think its good. Let me know what you think.

Chapter 5- Flashback

Tate, Sam and Dean sat at a booth in the back of a small diner right off the college campus, each of them involved with their food and not a word spilled from their lips. The boys had spoken before their meals came about the pictures they found, the previous murders and where they were staying for the night, but Tate seemed to refuse joining in. Her eyes found a spot to focus on and barely left it. Across the diner sat a man with his kids, a boy and a girl; twins. They were, from where she sat, identical. Sighing, she picked at the fries Dean hadn't stolen off her plate and allowed her mind to drift. Her thoughts fell on a boy with auburn hair and sky blue eyes with just a hint of purple in them. He had the same smile as her, the same nose and face structure, same laugh, same everything. Garrett had been her best friend, her partner in crime, her brother. But when she was eighteen, he was taken away from her. He was taken from her before she and Dean officially broke up, before the Impala was his baby, before Sam left for Stanford and Jess was just a dream girl in a young man's imagination and before Boston was even an option for her.

* * *

Dean sat behind the wheel of his beat up Ram Charger, the beat up truck had been John's but when he put the final touches on his pet project, his restored Impala, Dean got the older car and knew better than to complain about its condition. He was waiting for Tate to come back; they had stopped at a small truck stop on their way back to the hotel they had for the night; John finally allowed the teenagers to handle a case on their own. That meant little help from him or Tate's dad Ben, but the two fathers were always lurking two steps behind, whether their kids knew it or not. Tate's twin brother Garrett sat on Dean's right, Sam in the back and that left the seat behind Garrett empty for Tate. Garrett was the male version of Tate, same attitude and same features, with slight differences. Tate's eyes were that pale lilac petal purple where Garrett's were blue with small purple specks. But that was it, with the exception of being brother and sister, they were identical. Dean eyed Garrett and smiled. He had been around the boy as long as he had been around Tate; it was going on ten years that summer when Ben brought the twins to their father's semi-permanent residence outside of Topeka, Kansas. Garrett was like another brother to him, even though they were the same age and he dated his sister. As soon as they got back to their hotel, Dean had plans with Tate. He was going to take her to the small pool behind one of the narrow room filled buildings and tell her what he wanted to tell her for nearly two years; he wanted to tell her he loved her. Hearing the car door open, he was pulled from his thoughts and sighed; Tate was back. 

"Hey Jackasses." She said as she jumped into the truck and handed out greasy burgers, shakes and fries.

"What took so long?"

"There was a line Rett." She told her younger brother as she slapped him in the back of the head and settled down next to Sam. She smiled at the fourteen year old and leaned over to him.

"What have they been talking about?"

"Nothing actually.We were listening to the radio." Sam answered as he took a sip of his shake. Sighing, Tate relaxed in her seat and closed her eyes. It had been a long four days. John and Ben had finally let the four of them have a case of their own; a ghost who had a history of possessing old family antiques. The ghost, a Civil War solider, had possessed a musket that had been passed down in his family and had killed his great, great, great, there were a lot more greats…granddaughter's husband. Her husband was a descendant of the man who killed him and his revenge was to kill her husband. So, after getting the proper instructions from her father, the four of them exorcised the ghost and saved the day like their dads did. It gave Tate a warm feeling inside, a proud one and she couldn't wait to call her father and tell him all went well. Her attention came back to the car as Garrett changed the radio station and picked up only static

"I hate being in the middle of no where." He muttered as he toyed with the dial more. He was more like Dean than their own father, guess that's what happens when you grow up around people, or at least that's what Tate always chalked it up to.

"Stop whining Gar and just put in a tape." Dean said, flicking his wrist toward the glove box. His eyes caught Tate's in the mirror and winked at her, causing the dark haired girl to laugh.

"Man! Don't flirt with my sister while I'm around. It creeps me out. It's bad enough Sam and I have the room next to yours and I swear Tatum, if dad knew the things that Sam and I know, he'd haul our asses all the way back to Boston." He told his sister, turning around in his seat so he could look at her. She was older than him by five minutes and was always willing to brag about it.

"Not my fault she's your sister Garrett." Dean told him as he flicked on the blinker, leaving the main road and turning onto a back one. The kids had been there long enough to know a small bridge would be coming up soon, but no one saw the thick silvery gray wisp, it had been following Tatum since the truck stop, float up along side the Ram Charger.

"You don't have to always make out with her in front of me." Tate laughed at Garrett, he was always trying to act like the protective older brother he strived to be, but he could never pull it off right. Tate listened to the two boys in front bicker over hers and Dean's relationship, smiling every time Dean said something that made her brother shudder. Sam sat across from her, rolling his eyes every time Garrett shouted back, egging his older brother on even more. As they came to the bridge, the wisp increased in size and hung back, waiting for the right moment; the Ram Charger to come to the middle of the metal crossway. When it did, like a gust of wind, the wisp hit, cackling as the truck rocked onto the passengers side wheels.

"What the hell was that!" Tate screamed as she pushed herself off her window, wiping spilt thick chocolate ice cream off her hand.

"I have no idea. Sammy, you okay back there?" Dean asked, moving around in his seat. Sam nodded as Tate gripped Garrett's shoulders.

"You okay punk?"

"Yeah, you?" Before Tate could answer, it happened again and again, the last time the truck went through the railing. The huge car propelled itself down toward the dark churning waters below and four terrified screams came through the closed windows. On the bridge, the wisp took the form of a man dressed in old, Civil war style fatigues with a musket resting over his shoulder, a smile on his face. After hearing the loud crash below, the ghost burst into small fragments and blew away as a light breeze blew through the trees.

Below the bridge, the Ram Charger sunk deeper and deeper with the four inside. Tate, not knowing what to do or how to get out, she looked frantically at Dean, her brother, Sam and then the window next to her where water was slowly seeping in. Unbuckling her seat belt, she dove over the back seat, nearly hitting Sam in the face with her work boots and groped around in the dark until she found what she was looking for; the rifle Dean had thrown in there before they left on the hunt. With shaky arms and tear filled eyes, she pulled the trigger and watched as water rushed in the back window. Before she realized what was going on, Sam was knocking out the rest of the glass and swimming into the on coming current. Looking back at the two in the front, her now wet hair flying and sticking to her face, she followed Sam and prayed she'd make it to the top before she ran out of air. Following Sam through the murky water, Tate found herself turning back every few seconds to see where Garrett and Dean were, but found it harder to swim that way. After what felt like hours, she broke the surface of the water and felt herself panicking. None of the boys were anywhere near her, fear swept through her at the thought of not finding them.

"Tate!"

Hearing her name, she whipped around in the water and saw Dean standing on the shore with Sam sitting on the ground next to him. Pushing through the brown water, she swam over to the boys and when she got close enough, she crawled onto the sand bank. Before she had a chance to collapse, Dean scooped her up and cradled her against his chest.

"I was so worried, I didn't see you anywhere." Dean muttered into her wet hair

"I'm here, I'm here now." She said as she rubbed circles into the back of his neck, right where his hair line started. Pressing kisses to her face, Dean's lips moved to her ear.

"Tate, I have to tell you something."

"What De?" She asked, looking around for Garrett

"I lo…" Tate snapped out of his arms before he could get anymore letters out. Rushing down toward the water she watched as Garrett's blue baseball cap washed ashore, Sam reached out and plucked it out of the murky waves.

* * *

The sounds of the small diner returned, but Tate was still eighteen. The police had trolled the waters for Garrett's body for days after the accident, but all they dredged up was the car. Right after the accident the Winchester men thought Ben would never be the same again. He was furious for days, Dean and Sam were in shock; John still couldn't believe it and Tate had closed herself off from the world. She had shut down completely, barely spoke to anyone, rarely ate and refused to even see Dean and her father. John and Ben had gone back to the bridge and looked to see what truly caused the accident. At Garrett's funeral, where they only buried his hat, Tate refused to look at Dean and when he tried to talk to her, she snapped. She blamed him for Garrett's death, saying he was driving and no matter what really happened, it was all his fault. After several weeks and numerous trips to the bridge, John and Ben discovered the truth and Dean was not the one at fault. But when they told Tate, she refused to believe it and refused to apologize to Dean. When her father told her the truth, she already made arrangements and was moving back to Boston. Boston was her home town and after losing Garrett she was ready to give up 'hunting'. 

"Tate?" Hearing her name, she blinked several times, tears threatening to fall and turned to find Dean starring at her.

"Yeah?" She rasped; taking a deep breath and catching a tear before it fell.

"We're going to head to the hotel, you ready?" He asked as she stood up and threw several dollars on the table.

"I need some fresh air." And with that she was gone. Sam followed the path where Tate's eyes had been locked and saw what she had been starring at. Shaking his head, he knew why she had spaced out.

"Dean, look." Sam hissed, nodding toward the young twins. A young boy and girl sat there eating with their father. Blinking, Dean saw Tate and Garrett sitting there, laughing with Ben over some stupid magic trick Garrett had been fond of when he was around the boy's age.

Blinking again, he turned to Sam and sighed.

"Pay the bill, I'll go find Tate."

"Okay."

Dean rushed out and found Tate in the parking lot, leaning against the Impala with a cigarette between her lips. Her long auburn hair caught the fading sun's last rays and turned all the strands to a ruby red. Dean remembered when he was allowed to run his fingers through her hair, now, over the past few hours that she had been with them, he was barely allowed near her.

"I thought you stopped?"

"Started up again." She said with a shrug.

"I saw those kids."

"Dean, don't. Don't start. I'm not in the mood to hear it." She said, tapping her cigarette again the side of the car, smirking when she heard a growl catch in his throat, and watched the ashes fly away.

"You know, I did, do blame myself. I always did, even before you said so. Every thing you said at his funeral was all true. I can still remember what you said and how loud you yelled it at me."

"Dean, stop. It was a pissed off ghost that was mad at me for exorcising it and tried to kill me. It didn't kill me, it killed my twin. So technically it killed half of me."

"Tate…"

"Let me finish. I was a bitch back then, well nothing's really changed, I blamed you for everything and took off. I ran away and hid like I always do every time things get tough. It's not your fault, I blamed you and I should've blamed myself. I ran to you first and never looked for Rett. So now, eight years later, I apologize."

"Tate, you didn't have to do that."

"I did, now drop it. Can we go back to the hotel? I'm exhausted and the jet lag is finally catching up with me."

"All right, let's get Sam." By the time they got to the small road side hotel, Tate was asleep. Carefully Dean picked her up and carried her inside. There were only two beds, standard hotel room, which meant Dean was giving up his bed. Laying her down, he pulled the blankets up around her and brushed her hair back, kissing her forehead.

"Dean, you're going to let her have your bed?" Sam asked as he dropped their bags on the floor and sat on his bed.

"Yeah, I'll sleep on that shitty love seat."

"I saw you kiss her." Dean nearly growled when he saw his younger brother smile at him.

"That's enough Sam." And the two were silent for a few minutes, the only sounds in the room was Tate's deep breathing and Sam's shoes hitting the floor.

"You know, they found Garrett's body. It went down stream. A couple of fishermen found him, he drowned before he made it to the surface. I remember he was right behind you. Dad and Ben heard about it on the CB radio and went to check it out. This was a couple of weeks after Tate left. I think she already had a place by then. Ben never told her and made me swear not to tell anyone."

"I see that you listen well." Dean said, his eyes never leaving the sleeping young woman in his bed.


	6. Author's Note

**Author's Note**

Hey kiddies! So sorry for the lack of updates, been really busy with my SENIOR year coming to a close. As of June 14th, my senior year is over till graduation, so I can tell you, I'll be updating more often. Now, onto the story. I've been reading the reviews I've gotten; some say they want more 'supernatural'-ish stuff and everyone loves the whole Dean and Tate's relationship. So I guess I can give you guys kinda an idea of what's coming soon:

More Dean/Tate flashbacks

More insight into Tate's life

Some guest appearances by a father or two

Obviously more on this Dark Room ghost

Maybe some more OCs, friends and family of Tate's...still not sure on that

Some more about Garrett

I'm still thinking up new ideas and hoping I remember to write them down. Just give me a few more days, finals are almost over and then I'll have like 10 whole days to plan and type everything up. Keep reading and reviewing, you all know you love the haunted dark room :).

Much Love

B.E17


	7. Another Death and A Warning

Chapter Six- Another Death and A Warning

_Tate stood straight backed in the rain, her eyes locking on the gray head stone below her. Large tears mingled in with the heavy drops that already covered her face. People didn't need to see her cry, even though they were too. Her father stood several feet away from her, leaning against the black limo that would take the two of them, plus the three Winchesters back to Tate's aunt Sophia's house where the reception for Garrett's funeral was being held. Her black pea coat and skirt were soaked through, even her dark purple shirt underneath clung to her skin; but nothing seemed to bother her. She felt nothing, well she felt something, it was emptiness. Half of her was gone, her best friend, her partner in crime, was gone and all she had left of him was the look on his face in the rear view mirror as the Ram Charger went over the bridge. _

"_Tate?" Hearing Dean's voice, Tate whipped around, her wet auburn braid cracking against her already numb face and for the first time in a week, her lavender eyes were blazing. _

"_I told you I didn't want to see you ever again." She yelled, her voice echoing off the rain_

"_I just came to see if you were okay." He said as he came toward her and tried to wrap an arm around her shoulders. _

"_Leave me alone." She breezed past Dean and her father, sliding into the car. Her wet clothes slipped off the leather in the limo, but she didn't care, she didn't want to be there anyways. Moments later, Ben came in next to her and attempted to do what Dean had tried to do and succeeded. _

"_Don't be like that to him Tate. He cares about you."_

"_Its his fault dad, he was driving."_

"_Baby girl, just because he was driving doesn't make it Dean's fault."_

"_He is the reason you have one child. Aren't you just a little pissed off at him?"_

"_It was a car accident, an accident." _

"_Whatever dad."_

Tate woke up to the sun streaming in through the window across the room, the warm gold rays hitting her coverless body. It was earlier than she expected to be awake, only nine o'clock west coast time. That made it twelve in Boston, meaning she'd have to check in with her office soon. Stretching in the cheap hotel bed, she realized that she was still in her clothes from the day before and felt her upper lip curl; she hated sleeping in jeans. Hearing soft snores coming from her left, she turned to find Sam dead to the world in the other bed. All she could see of the younger Winchester was his mop of shaggy brown locks. So, if she was in one bed and Sam was in the other, where was Dean? From where she sat she could clearly see the Impala and his boots were on the floor, so where did he sleep? Seeing a familiar lump on the too small love seat, she watched as Dean's chest rose and fell as he slept on the very uncomfortable couch. Sliding out of bed, she grabbed the blanket that she had used during the night and tip toed over to the chair. Standing over Dean, she looked down at his handsome face and sighed, being around him was harder than she thought. Draping the blanket over him, she brushed her hand across his face and cupped his cheek, watching him move into the touch. As she stood back up and was about to back away from him, a strong hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her back.

"Hey." Dean rasped his voice still thick with sleep.

"Morning. Why did you sleep here and let me have the bed?" He didn't give her a solid answer, just shrugged and gave her that lazy smile that still made her go weak in the knees.

"I just did, you passed out and looked so…I dunno, peaceful. I didn't want you to sleep on this piece of shit."

"So you decided to put your back through hell for me, how sweet."

"Well, you know me." He said as his smile grew wider and Tate swore the ground was beginning to come more into focus; her knees were too close to turning to mush.

"Get up." She said forcefully, her hands on her hips.

"Why?"

"I'm gonna go get something for breakfast and you're going to move over to the bed." Tate watched his eyes, knowing she'd know what he was thinking about it and he was taking his time on purpose.

"Fine, help me up. You're right, my back is in knots." He told her as he stuck out a hand. Rolling her eyes, Tate wrapped her thin fingers around his wrist, her thumb resting right over his pulse, the pad of her finger rubbing over the small dip there and with a wicked smile helped him up. As she pulled back, she lost her footing and out of instinct, Dean pulled her into him. Bare chest and well worn cotton crushed together and an excited gasped slipped past Tate's lips. Avoiding Dean and what happened to the two of them was getting too hard for her. With shaky hands, she splayed her fingers apart on his bare shoulders and pushed herself away from him.

"Go lay down, I'll get changed real quick and then go find bagels or something." She whispered as she finally backed away from him and hurried over to her duffle bag. As Dean made himself comfortable in bed, he kept his jade colored eyes locked on Tate's blurring form and watched her run from one side of the room to the bathroom; slamming the door behind her and locked it. She came out twenty minutes later, wearing clean clothes and with a long ponytail at the base of her neck. Before walking back into the main part of the room, she looked around the corner and saw that both Winchesters were asleep and slowly moved from her hiding place. Grabbing some money and Dean's car keys, she ran from the room and gracefully slid behind the wheel of the Impala.

As she rode into the brochure perfect college town, she listened to the last guitar riff of an AC/DC song and sighed. She needed to focus back on why she was really there, she had only been on the west coast one day and Dean was already all the way under her skin again. Shaking her head, she guided the sleek black car into the small parking lot outside a college coffee shop and headed in, the guitar solo still buzzing in her head; reminding her of Dean. Walking inside Tate saw the place was filled with students, sipping coffees, nibbling on whatever pastry was being sold and gossiping about something. Stepping behind some one in line, she looked around and sighed. This was normal and what Dean had pulled Sam from. Closing her eyes she focused on some of the mindless gossip around her and heard something behind her.

"Did you hear about Kyle McKenna?" Turning around, Tate found a blonde and a redhead standing there, each wearing something with the letters S.F.A.I on it.

"No, what happened?" The redhead asked, obliviously not fully in the loop about the latest his said she said.

"I heard from Brandon that they found him in one of the Chem. labs, all shriveled up like Lauren."

"No shit! It happened again?"

"Yeah in Professor Summers' class, G Lab, she found him early this morning. They had to call Professor Bowen over and ask him if that's what Lauren looked like."

"Oh my God, that's horrible. I feel so bad for Professor Bowen. Kelly, move up. That girl in front of you took off." The redhead said as Tate pushed open the door to café and got back in the Impala. Breakfast could wait, another kid had died. Weaving through steady morning traffic, Tate made it back to the college in record time, parked in the visitor's lot and grabbed her camera bag before she fled the car. Walking toward the building with a purpose, she went the same way she had gone the night before when she came to see Carl Bowen and threw herself in with the crowds of students milling around. Every time she passed a group or just two friends, she heard gossip about this McKenna boy. Walking down the hallway where Bowen's classroom was, she saw him talking to a few other professors and when he looked up, he saw the younger woman. He mouthed for her to come over and that it was okay. Stepping toward the circle of who she guessed were his colleagues, she smiled and coughed enough to get their attention.

"Carl, I think you have a student who wants to speak with you." The only woman there said; she looked to be around her late forties with graying brown hair and warm eyes. She was an art teacher all right; Tate got that from her right away.

"Oh no, this isn't a student. This is Miss Tatum King, she's a photo journalist and is the one covering the case on all of these deaths. Tate this is Brian O'Hare, Paula Michaels, Mark DeLorrie, some of my fellow art teachers." Tate's smile grew wider and shook each of their hands.

"Its nice to meet you all and just as Professor Bowen said, I'm covering this whole case; did any of you know Mr. McKenna?"

"I had him when he was a freshman, wonderful young man. Had a real eye for art, a good painter." Professor Michaels said, pushing her tortoise shell glasses up onto her head.

"Professor Bowen, did you have him as a student?" Tate asked, wishing she had her note pad to write all this down and bring it back to Sam.

"No, but he was apart of the school's newspaper. Why do you ask?" Bowen asked, not really liking where Tate was taking this. Was she blaming him for the deaths? Did she know about what happened to him nearly two decades ago?

"I asked because all of the victims were photographers and up until now, female. Does anyone know who runs the paper?" She asked, digging into her camera bag and nearly let out a yelp when she found a slip of paper, of course, receipt for film.

"Shauna Monroe, she graduated two years ago, but came back to run the paper. She was one of my students," O'Hare mentioned and then continued. "She has an office in the main building, near guidance. I can take you there if you want."

"Thank you Mr. O'Hare, but I can find it and I need to talk to this Professor Summers before I do anymore." She said, smiling warmly. "I have to get going Professor Bowen; it was nice meeting you all. Professor, if I need anything, anymore information, I'll stop by." She said as she left and went back the way she came. On her way to the main building, she felt her cell phone vibrate in her pocket, let out a squeak and pulled it out; Dean's number flashing across the caller I.D.

"Hello?" She asked, pushing open the doors to the art wing and cutting across the same gardens she had cut across with Sam and hurried to the main building.

"Where the hell are you? You left an hour ago."

"Dean, something came up. Put Sammy on the phone."

"Tell me what happened."

"Put your brother on the phone or I'm not coming home with your car." Hearing a huff and a few muddled curses, she knew he handed the Sam the phone and waited.

"Tate what's up?"

"There was another death, a guy this time, found him just like the Mills chick but in a Chem. lab."

"What? A guy in a chemistry class? How is that connected?"

"Photographer for the school paper. I'm going to talk to the girl who runs the paper, maybe get some more on the kid and then I'm gonna try and sneak up to this lab. I have my press pass, I might get through."

"Gimmie a call when you get more. What's the kid's name?"

"Kyle McKenna."

"Thanks. And Dean says don't hurt the car."

"I'll crash it, love ya Sammy."

"Bye Ta." Hearing her old nickname made her smile as she put her phone away and came to the room marked 'S.F.A.I newsroom.' Knocking on the door, she waited and then saw a younger woman with red eyes pulled the door inward.

"Can I help you?" She asked, sniffing and blotting the corner of her eyes.

"Shauna Monroe?"

"That's me."

"I'm Tatum King of the Boston Herald; I'm covering the case on all of these mysterious deaths. I was told you knew Mr. McKenna."

"Yes, he was my photographer and my little sister's boyfriend. Are you here to ask me questions?"

"Yes I am, I need some more information on what happened and Mr. McKenna, would you mind?"

"No come on in." She said walking in first and leaving the door open for Tate. As Tate walked in, an odd breeze blew past her, ruffling her hair and causing it to fly all over the place.

"Is there a window open?"

"No Miss King, there isn't. Why? Would you like me to open it?" Shauna looked at her for a moment, cocking her head to the side.

"No, no thank you." Looking over her shoulder, Tate felt the breeze again and swore something had a strong grip on her wrist. She didn't like this at all, every instinct she had was screaming get Sam and Dean.

"_You're friends won't be able to help you now Tatum. They won't hear you scream when I get a hold of you." _Spinning around, Tate's eyes darted everywhere, but found nothing.

"Miss King are you all right?"

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" She asked, obviously confused.

"That voice?"

"No, are you all right? Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Yeah, please."

"Let me go get it, its in the teacher's lounge. Have a seat." As Shauna left the room and Tate sat down, the breeze kicked back up and wrapped itself completely around her. The cold lashing at her skin, biting her cheeks and making her eyes water. A scream worked its way up her throat, but she couldn't move her lips to let it out.

"_Just wait till you're truly alone and then you'll see what I can do." _


	8. Confessions,Secrets & Long Lost Fathers

Chapter 7- Confessions, Secrets and Long Lost Fathers

Sam and Dean sat in the small road side diner right across from their hotel and stole a booth in the back. Sam sat on one side with the laptop, clicking away and working on something while Dean sat across from him, his eyes locked on something interesting on the table top. He didn't like not knowing what Tate was doing or where she was, this feeling of not being around her had started to fade away when he saw her after all that time apart, but now it was back and worse than before. It made him nervous and jumpy, always expecting her to walk through a door or call his cell phone.

"Calm down, she's fine. She knows what she's doing." Sam said; his eyes still locked on the computer screen.

"How do you know she's fine? How do you know something...?"

"She'd call if she really needed us."

"But what if she couldn't?" Sam finally looked up at his brother and sighed. Having Tate around, even though it had only been two very long days, was tormenting Dean. To anyone else, it seemed as if Dean and Tate had still been together and he was worried about his missing girlfriend. Sam knew how much his brother cared about her, even though the only person who 'knew' that was Dean.

"Dean, calm down. This is Tate we're talking about; she can get herself out of any mess." He said as the familiar sound of his cell phone's ringer went off. Pulling it out of his coat pocket, he read the caller ID and quickly handed it over to Dean.

"You take it." He said; Dean heard it in his voice, whoever it was Sam did not want to talk to. Taking the small silver phone he read the caller ID too and paled: Ben. Benjamin King was Tate's father, the only other man the boys knew to take orders from and part of Dean still feared the older man. He was a former Marine who towered over John, had steely colored eyes and a booming voice that had never once been directed toward his daughter, but toward the Winchester boys. The memory of his screaming still rattle Dean's bones. All and all, he was a scary man even at fifty three.

"What do I do?"

"Pick it up Dean." Sam hissed as the ringing continued.

"What do I say?"

"Hello maybe? I dunno." Dean flipped open the phone before the machine picked up and took a deep breath as her brought it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Dean? Its Ben. I called Sam's phone."

"He's busy, I just picked it up."

"Oh, all right. Look, I need to ask you something."

"Go ahead sir, shoot."

"Have you heard from Tate? I called her place and got the machine, I've been trying to get her for about two weeks."

"She was working and now she's with us."

"That explains the house phone but I called her cell phone an hour ago and it said the number was disconnected. Have you heard from her on her cell?" Dean's eyes widen and reached for his own phone. Pulling it out of his pocket, he tossed it at Sam and whispered to call Tate.

"No, I haven't. But I'll try her on Sam's phone and then call you right back."

"Thanks Dean." Hanging up on Ben, he looked at his younger brother and hoped she was all right.

"Well did you get anything? Her voice mail? Her?" Dean was nearly begging and searched Sam's eyes for something, anything.

"No, it says the phone's been shut off."

"Shit! We're leaving now!"

* * *

The ghost, well what Tate had ruled out to be a ghost a very pissed off ghost, slammed the door shut and she heard the sounds of the lock clicking. Whatever it was, Tate was stuck. She couldn't move her hands off the arms of the chair or pull her back away from the wooden back rest. It was as if she glued to the seat. She tried everything, kicking her feet, moving her arms, but nothing worked so she started shifting her weight from one side of the chair to the other. As she got the chair onto two legs, just about to tip over, the ghost turned to face Tate.

_"Silly little girl, trying to get away."_ It hissed and with a flick of what looked like a wrist, it sent Tate; chair and all flying into Shauna's office, smashing into her desk and throwing a very expensive looking computer onto the floor. In the one shaft of light streaming in through the small office window, Tate saw the ghost as it made its way towards her, had the figure and face of a woman. Even though she had a gray glow about her, Tate made out dark hair, a pretty face with the same kind of gray eyes as the rest of her, lighter clothes and in her stomach rested four dark circles; bullet wounds.

_"So you see me the way I am now, thanks to that earlier."_

"You do suck out their souls, that's why all the victims are shriveled up."

_"And I only need one more to become whole." _She said, touching Tate's face, only to have her turn her head the other way and cringe when she pulled her face back. _"You're going to be that last one." _

"That's never going to happen."

_"Who's going to save you? Your little boyfriend and his brother?" _The woman taunted, her bony fingers threading through Tate's hair. _"They don't even know where you are and they really don't care about you."_

"They do care and they'll find me. I bet they're on their way right now." Tate ground out, her fingers clenching the very ends of the arm rests; her knuckles had gone white from holding on too tight.

_"Doubt it. They really don't give a damn about you. Why do you think Dean let you leave after Garrett died?" _Her eyes flashed; it almost looked like wild lightning flying across the pale purple pools. _"Oh, did I touch a nerve?" _

"How do you know about that?" It was intended to come out like a growl, but was actually a whimper.

_"I know everything about my victims. I knew that the Mills girl felt guilty about her parents divorce, they were always fighting about the money they had to pay for her to go to school here. Or the last kid, the boy, he blamed himself for losing falling out of first place at the State level swim match. And I know you feel guilty for not only letting your brother die, but for leaving Dean when he needed you and you needed him. Such a romantic Tatum." _The ghost grinned, her gray teeth matching her pulled tight lips.

"So you use guilt, unlike Bloody Mary who uses secrets. Big deal, Sam and Dean can get rid of you just like her."

_"Not once I'm fully restored."_ She said advancing on Tate. Tate could feel the air around her getting cold and swore she could see her breath in the quickly changing temperature. Outside she could hear Shauna banging on the door, asking if she was all right, if anything happened and to be let in.

_"Maybe I should take care of that little newspaper girl? She knew the boy I killed earlier, she might feel guilt about his death seeing as she was the last person who saw her."_ She said with a sly grin.

"No, don't do anything to her. She has nothing to do with this." She begged as the ghost turned toward the door, ignoring Tate's pleads, shivers and constant wiggling attempts to get free. Tate's mind was working a million a minute, she needed to find a way to buy herself some time and keep this ghost vacuum from sucking out two souls. An idea hit her and she called to the woman.

"Hey Ghosty Bitch!" Right away her gray head and darkened hair whipped around and she nearly growled at Tate. "Who are you and what happened? The bullet holes. Obviously you were murdered, so who did it and why are you killing others to get your revenge when you can just kill the person who did this to you?"

_"I was murdered, but the person I want revenge on didn't do this to me! He left me for dead!" _She yelled, her voice rattling the items that lined the shelves in the office. _"I was a reporter, the best field reporter the station had. They always asked me to cover the best stories; my boss would beg me to do it. 'Tracy please, you're the only person I trust.' So I'd do them, he started calling them the Allerdyce reports..." _Tate listened to her ramble on and on about some of her famous stories; just what she needed a cocky ghost, but something outside the office, outside the classroom in the hallway caught her attention. She heard Shauna explaining she couldn't get back inside a familiar, "Back away, cover your face, we'll take care of it" and knew she was safe. Dean and Sam had found her after all.

Dean kicked the classroom door open and rushed in, seeing Tate through the open office door. Sam followed behind him, a rifle loaded with rock salt bullets in hand and gasped when he saw Tate. The ghost was hovering right over her, unaware of the two men now in the room and kept talking about whatever Tate had asked her. That was Tate's way, distract the monster, ghost, demon or whatever till Sam and Dean showed up and handed her a gun.

"HEY!" Dean yelled as he stepped into the office, both the ghost and Tate looked at him; the ghost looked pissed but the look on Tate's face would be forever engraved in Dean's mind. It was the kind of look she used to give him when he'd come home safe from a hunt with their dads and she had to watch Sammy and Garrett. Her eyes lit up, a small smile painted itself on her lips and she practically glowed at him.

_"So, they do care about you. Guess I was wrong. But what are you going to do? Save your Fair Lady or kill me?" _She hissed as she reached towards Tate and Dean saw red.

"Both." Sam said, squeezing the trigger and watched the rock salt bullet pierce her almost human body but a very human scream tore from her throat. The force of the bullet ripped her body into black wisps, each of them flying up into the air conditioning vent over Tate's head and left small bleeding gashes on her face as they went. Once each black cloud was gone, Tate's body slumped into the chair and a breath she had been holding in slipped past her lips. Dean rushed to her side as her head lolled back and forth, the pressure the reporter's ghost had on her finally gone.

"Tate, look at me. Look at me." He whispered, turning her face towards him, his finger tips brushing across her jaw.

"I am looking at you De. Stop touching my face, it hurts." She whined as she pulled away; Dean knew she was all right, she was back to the normal sarcastic edging on bitchy girl he had known most of his life.

"Sammy, go get me a towel or something for her face."

"All right, find out what happened. Tell him Tate, leave nothing out." He told them both as he left the room. Sam left not only because Dean asked him to help Tate, he was going to leave to let the two of them have a moment alone. It wasn't everyday Dean was put in a situation where he was that close to watching his, well whatever she was to him, almost die.

Back in the now destroyed office, Dean watched as Tate moved away from his hand and touched her own face lightly, her finger tips barely brushing over the open cuts.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" And she did everything the ghost had told her. "So this Allerdyce chick gets pissed off because someone leaves her to die and she comes back to kill him? Did she say who it was?"

"No, just that she was murdered and whoever went out on this job with her left her there with four bullets in her. I guess if he had done something, she might've made it. I dunno; I'm not a doctor."

"Speaking of doctor, maybe we should get you to one. Some of these cuts are pretty deep."

"I'm not going Dean, I'll be fine."

"Fine, fine. Be that way. But at least let me take care of you when we get back to the hotel." Deep down, she couldn't resist that, him being so sweet to her after all the crap she had done to him and for a second, she felt tears pierce her eyes but they never fell.

"All right, but no My Lil Pony band-aids or some shit like that." She muttered as he helped her out of the chair. As she stood on her feet, leaning fully against Dean, she heard his cell phone go off.

"If its Sammy, I'll start laughing." She said as she dug into his pocket and pulled it out, not caring to look at the caller ID and flipped it open.

"Hello?"

"Tate?"

"Dad?" She asked, standing up straight and brushing back her sweaty bangs, mentally preparing herself to see her father.

"I guess Dean found you?"

"Yeah, why? You couldn't get a hold of me?"

"No, every time I tried I got a message that said your phone was disconnected."

"I had no service sorry Dad. Did you need me or something?"

"Yeah, how fast can you get out to Colorado?"

"Colorado?" She mimed, her eye brows arching and she swore Dean's face fell.


	9. Scrapes and Scars

In this chapter, with the idea I have, I don't think there's going to be a lot of 'ghost action', but a lot more on Tate and Ben, her father and more Tate and Dean. Okay, maybe a little ghost-ness toward the end, I'm not sure so don't hold me to it, lol. Thanks for all the reviews, keep reading and reviewing, I love reading what you guys think of it so far.

Chapter 8- Scrapes and Scars

"Yes, Colorado, that's what I said kiddo. I need you to get out here, we have work to do." Benjamin King could have doubled as John Winchester's twin, personality wise, the two were the same. They both had 'missions' to fulfill; John's was to find the demon that killed Mary and now Jess and Ben's was to hunt down every Wendigo he could find; in his mind every time he killed one he got a little more vengeance for Serena, Tate's mother. Part of Tate knew that was why he asked her to come with him, he probably found some of the gross looking creatures and needed her help. She had only been in California two days and now had a ghost to deal with, a ghost who was killing people, she couldn't just get up and leave.

"Why dad? What did you find?"

"About three of them living in an abandoned mine."

"Dad, where are you? And tell me you're not going after them alone?"

"I'm not; I have Ryan here with me."

"Ryan?" She asked, her eyes going wide and when she remembered Dean was still standing behind her, his hand on her back, she felt sick. Ryan was some punk kid that started hanging around her father's longest job, a rather too long stint with John at a garage in Memphis after Garrett died. He was the boss's son and clung to her father right away, his own dad never paid attention to him and Ben had just lost his son, so they made a perfect pair. In Tate's mind, Ryan was Garrett's replacement and she hated him for it, except that one night when she got smashed at a bar with him before she left and wound up sleeping with him. That was two weeks before she moved away and two weeks before she broke up with Dean.

"Yeah, I brought him along; the kid's gotten a lot better."

"No dad, I'm not coming." She said, gripping Dean's hand tightly, the old Tate slipped through, the one that cried when her father did things like this and ran to Dean when Ben left her alone.

"Tatum Elizabeth! I gave you an order, you have to come!" But that was the one thing about Ben that he lacked, he wasn't like John, he couldn't control the kids like John did. In their screwed up 'family'; John, Dean, Sammy, Tate, Ben and Garrett, John had always been the definition of 'dad', the one who made the rules and made you stick to them. Ben was the 'mom', the nice one, the 'good cop', the one who would let the kids sneak out at night to catch a late movie and a bite to eat after a long hunt. At times he was a push-over and Tate, when she was younger, had him wrapped around her finger.

"I don't take orders anymore; you go hunt this fucking thing, get killed or better yet, feed Ryan to one. I'm done dad. You call me out of no where to come hunting with you and my dead brother's replacement, I can't do it, I can't be near him. And besides, I'm on a hunt with the boys, I'm working." Tate slapped the phone shut and with teary eyes gave it back to Dean. "Here, thanks." She said, letting him go and pushing away from him, tears mingling in with the slowly drying blood that caked her face.

Walking out of Shauna's office, she found the blonde sitting at a computer, a cup of coffee between shaking hands and a shocked look lingering in her wide eyes. Tate could feel her starring at her face and knew why; she must've looked like a mess.

"What happened to you Miss King?" She asked, nodding toward a long gash along her forehead.

"It's a long story, one I really don't feel like retelling right now. Shauna, I know this is hard for you, but is there any way I can schedule an appointment with you and Professor Summers to ask you both a couple more questions about Kyle?"

"I can talk to her and then call you; do you have a cell phone?" Before she even asked, Tate had pulled out a business card and put a star next to her cell phone number.

"Call me anytime, about Kyle, about his death or if you want to talk."

"Thanks, I will." She said taking the card and once she put it away, Tate left the classroom, followed by Dean and only to bump into Sam. In his hand was some paper towels, a couple were wet and some band-aids.

"I got them from the nurse." He said, grinning. Tate took them from him and walked down the hall, heading toward the entrance.

The weather had changed since she first pulled into the college, it went from a warm sun filled morning to a gray sky filled with thick clouds and large rain drops. Tate didn't care, she walked out and stood on the grass, letting the drops soak through her baby tank top and chill her to the bone. Lifting her face to the sky, she closed her eyes and let the water run over the ridges, dips, straight-aways and curves of her face. The darkened blood on her forehead, cheeks, across the bridge of her nose and down her jaw line all began to wash away, leaving behind long angry red lines. Dean walked out behind her, watching her stretch her arms out and almost try to collect the rain. She did this every time it rained. Creeping up behind her, he put a hand on her hip and turned her toward the car.

"Come on Tate; let's go get you cleaned up." He whispered softly into her wet hair and pulled her close. She let him lead her toward the car and when he opened the back door, she slid in and leaned her head back against the seat. Her wet hair slid off the vinyl material covering the head rest and she allowed a breath that she had been holding in too long out. Sam opened the back door behind the driver's seat and sat down next to her. He loved Tate like he would love a sister and was glad she came out of whatever happened in there with the ghost fine, well minus the cuts on her face. She scooted over to him and rested her head against his shoulder, her hair dripping onto his shirt. But when she turned to bury her face in his arm, he realized it wasn't rain drops soaking into his clothes, it was tears.

"Tate? Tate shh, it's okay. We got you, Dean and I got there before anything happened." Sam whispered, rubbing her shoulders.

"This has nothing to do with the damn ghost." She mumbled, laughing softly.

"Then what's wrong?" He asked as Tate pushed away from him and sat back against the window; flipping her hair back off of her face.

"Ben called her." Dean said as he put the key in the ignition and the car roared to life.

"What did he say to you?"

"He wanted me to come out to Colorado with him; to hunt some Wendigos with Ryan. With Ryan! Does he think he'll ever get me out there with him again if that little asshole is with him?" She said, roughly brushing away tears and rain drops. "I hate that kid; he's Garrett's replacement for Christ sake! He takes my brother's place after he died and now, my dad tells him everything about us and has the kid hunting. It pisses me off, I never replaced Rett, but he did, just like he replaced mom with all of those other women." She ended with a shudder and more tears fell down her cheeks.

As Dean twisted in his seat, one hand on the wheel the other draped over Sam's usual seat and his head cocked to the side to look out the back window so he could see where he was going as he pulled out of the parking space, he moved his hand from the back of the head rest and over to Tate. With a slow, almost shaky move, he brushed the tears off her face and smiled, she let him touch her, and his smile only grew wider when she smiled back at him. Maybe the two of them would be all right after all.

* * *

Back in Shauna's office, even though Shauna now sat outside in the hallway waiting for the computer maintenance people to come look at the computer that the ghost had knocked over when she threw Tate into the desk, the ghost; the murdered Tracy Allerdyce hovered in the air conditioning vent and concentrated on pulling her body back together. As she hid in the duct, she had heard everything between Tatum and her father. A slow evil grin spilled across her lips; it was too easy. She'd use the guilt of Garrett's death and her father favoring this Ryan character over his only daughter.

_"Too easy." _She hissed as her body, now fully restored, slid down the duct and toward the art department buildings.

* * *

As the Impala pulled into the hotel's parking lot and the engine died to nothing but a purr, Sam got out first, quickly followed by Tate who walked to the front of the car and leaned against the hood. Her long fingers splayed out against the black metal beneath her, her weight resting on her palms and the back of her knees that bumped against the grill, her tanned skin contrasting sharply with the ebony paint. The heat coming through from the engine seeped through the rough denim of her jeans and the warmth spread to her still numb legs. Even though the passing summer rain had ended and cooled down the humid air, Tate shivered, convulsed and tinier tremors flew through her body like it was eighty below instead of the sticky eighty two. The feeling of the ghost touching her face left a cold, icy void inside her and she knew from past experience it would take a while to fully leave her. Watching the boys bring guns out of the trunk in other duffle bags, she put her face in her hands, her cheeks still damp and sighed. She hated crying in front of people, especially Sam and Dean. She was supposed to be a hard ass hunter with a tough outer layer and heart made of stone, not some mushy little girl who was still afraid of the monster under the bed and begged daddy to turn her night light on. Looking up, she felt eyes on her and saw Dean standing in the door way.

"What?" Her voice was raspy from crying in the car and quickly cleared her throat.

"You're sitting on my car."

"Yeah, what are you going to do about it?" She challenged, arching a once pierced eye brow. Dean didn't have to know that she got her eye brow pierced with a boyfriend who has gotten his tongue pierced the same night and that they both held hands as the earrings entered their skin. He didn't know much about her life in Boston and she had no plans on letting him know.

"Kick you off of it."

"I doubt it, your dad used to let me sit up here all the time."

"Before he restored it." Dean said, pushing off the door frame and moving towards her, closing the distance between them with three long strides. He stood right in front of her so close that if he leaned in they'd only be inches apart.

"Where's Sammy?"

"Inside looking up that Allerdyce chick."

"I was going to do it." She said brushing a piece of his hair that had fallen away from the other gelled in place pieces off of his forehead.

"Guess he beat you to it." He said, placing his hands on top of hers and leaned into her body. "What are we doing Tate?"

"I have no idea." She whispered; a whisper was all she could muster at the moment as she placed a kiss on the end of his chin. "I've only been back with the two of you for two days and it feels like we haven't skipped a beat; you and me 'we', not the three of us."

If Dean pushed her back any further she'd be laying fully stretched out on the hood of 'his baby' and she hadn't been put in that position since she spied him at her two-year college graduation. Sam was still at school, most likely just finishing his up his first year at Stanford and John had brought Dean on a hunt in Salem, something about a witch, and Dean made a side trip to Boston after Ben called them to tell him he'd have his phone turned off for two days; two days to just spend time with Tate. She had seen him the moment she went up for her diploma; he wasn't that hard to miss, the only person wearing a thick leather jacket standing in the back of the field sweating to death in the too warm May weather. And as soon as all the mortarboards had been thrown, she ran through the crowd and found him leaning against his car with an orange lily in hand; her favorite flower and tucked it behind her ear. At that time she hadn't spoken to him or about him in two years, her 'college' friends had no idea who the handsome stranger was that they saw talking to her that day and still didn't know. But after talking to him for a few minutes and a few too many kisses, they wound up in some back parking lot with Tate laying on the hood of the car wearing a wrinkled sun dress, her gown on the floor and her fingers traveling over Dean's bare chest. That was the last time she saw him until two days before in the LAX parking lot.

Hearing a cough and a covered up giggle, Tate came back from her memory of a long ago 'quickie' on the hood of a gorgeous muscle car, and looked up around Dean to see Sam standing where his brother had been a few moments before. Sam had that shit eatting grin on his face and there was something about it that made him seem like the Sammy she had grown up with, not the one who was dragged away from school.

"Am I interupting something?" Sam asked, another round of laughter tugging against his lips.

"Nope, just talking about something Sammy. Move Dean..." She whispered, pushing him away and hoping down, only to have the older Winchester take up her still warm perch on the car. "...what's up Sam?" She asked as she strode over to him, all power and buisness like nothing ever happened.

"I found some stuff on that Allerdyce woman, a lot of _interesting _stuff."

"What kind of interesting stuff Sam?" Dean asked, raking a hand through his hair.

"Come inside, I have it all pulled up on the laptop."

"We will, give us a minute Sammy." Tate arched an eye brow and watched Sam go inside, listening to his older brother. She had a feeling why he wanted a minute without him but she wasn't ready to deal with it yet.

"All right, you've got a minute. I want to get this ghost shit over and done with." She said, popping her knuckles.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Go right back to normal like that after what happened out here."

"Dean, nothing happened out here, something _almost _happened but we're not going to recreate that memory on the hood of the car for 'old times sake', I won't do it." They just looked at each other for a few seconds; Tate picking at the already chipping polish on her nails and Dean checking the hood for scratches.

"You never answered my question; what are we doing?"

"I did! I said I have no idea!" She yelled, getting frustrated and running a hand over her face, wincing when she hit a cut. "Maybe it's best if I go to Colorado and help my dad. If Sam's found stuff, you two'll know what to do; with or without me. If I go, it might be the best thing for us; not to see each other at all."

"I don't think it'll be best." He said, pushing himself off the car and walking towards the hotel door.

"And why not?" Tate demanded, a hand on her hip.

"Because."

"Dean! That is not..." Her sentence went unfinished as Dean pressed his lips to hers.


	10. Broken Souls

This chapter isn't as long as the last ones, but I think it can hold its own. So keep reading and reviewing and I'll keep trying to update as often as time and ideas allow. :)

* * *

Chapter 9- Broken Souls

_"I'm sick of this shit Dean! Stop trying to convince me to stay here!" Tate yelled, her voice blending in with the thunder that seemed to be clapping for her last ditch effort of bravery to fight off Dean and his promises of making things right if she stayed. All of her things, minus her hunting things, had been shipped from Memphis to Boston weeks before and whatever wasn't shipped was tucked away in the back of her 1969 Ford Mustang._

_"I want you to stay! Is there something wrong with wanting my girlfriend to stay with me?"_

_"I'm not your girlfriend anymore! I haven't been for a long time! Stop calling me that and let me go!" She didn't mean to stop holding onto her hand, she meant stop holding onto the idea of her being there for the rest of forever. Rain rolled down off her face, came down in small rivers off her leather jacket and a streak of lighting lit up only half of her face, only one eye reflected the anger, loss and love she had directed at Dean, only one cheek that showed the current of black mascara trickling down it and one side of two trembling lips. "I want you to forget me!" She shrieked at him, sounding more like a banshee than the beautiful girl who was crushing his heart. _

_"I don't think I'll be able to Tatum." He told her as he closed the gap between them and pulled her soaking wet body into his and wrapped his arms tightly around her; one hand placed on the small of her back and the other on the back of her head, keeping her in place. _

_"Dean please let me go. Let me go, let me go." She chanted and prayed that his fingers would untangle from her wet hair. He did let her go; just enough so he could lean down and catch her lips one last time. Tate felt herself melting into him and the idea of staying with him and making things right as he said began to look tempting, but she couldn't do it. A low growl vibrated in her throat and with a fierce shove, she pushed back off of him and pushed him forward. As she took a step back and watched Dean stumble over his own feet, landing hard on the muddy mess that had become the King's driveway, she gave him one last look and then ducked into her car. The last time she saw Dean, at the age of twenty two, was him sitting in her driveway, covered in mud from the waist down, his hands covered in the thick goop and buried his face into his palms, leaving behind muddy marks that would forever remind him of Tate._

Tate's eyes snapped open as Dean's fingers skirted over her face, coming down to her jaw line and resting there, his fingers only inches away from where their lips still met.

"Dean..." She mumbled against his lips, trying to pry him away. "Dean, Dean!" She yelled and almost, like in the small flashback that ran across her shut eye lids, went to push him back into the Impala. But she didn't need to; he pulled away by himself and looked down at her.

"What Tate?"

"Stop, we can't do this."

"Why not?"

"Because...we just can't. Not yet anyways. Dean, we still have a lot of things to take care of; not just between the two of us, but with this ghost. Just not now, so stop it okay?" She asked, playing with the collar of his shirt, only to have her fingers brushed away and Dean spin on his heel.

"Okay, fine, whatever." He said as he pulled out the keys and stalked over to the Impala. The bile began to rise in Tate's throat, all she had done was told him to wait, that's all, nothing more and now he was pissed.

"Where are you going?" She yelled, her hands on her hips and an eye brow cocked

"Out to get something to eat, I'll be back...later." He told her as he slipped into the car and turned the engine on.

"Dean!" She called but was drowned out by the sound of Black Sabbath and the roaring engine. Flipping off the disappearing car, she turned her back on him and headed into the hotel room where Sam sat on one of the beds with the laptop resting on his thighs.

"Where's Dean?"

"Took off and please, do not ask what happened."

"I won't." Sam said, a smile tugging on his lips.

"I'm not your brother so I'll let you get away with that little evil grin, this time." She told him as she folded her leg on the bedspread and sat behind him. "So what's so interesting?" She asked, placing her chin on his shoulder and looked down at the screen.

"Well, this Tracy Allerdyce woman was murdered, a drive-by shooting back in the seventies, and she was a reporter, a damn good one. She won all kinds of journalism awards and crap like that. Very well known. The night she died, she was coming back from covering a case with her photographer and they were heading to get something to eat. As the two went to cross traffic, two cars drive by with two men shooting out the front windows. Long story short, Tracy was in the wrong place at the wrong time, she got caught in the cross fire. Her photographer saw the cars coming and ran toward the diner, leaving her there. He never came back for her."

"Okay, she wants revenge, she basically told me that back at the college, but why is she stealing other peoples...souls I guess, to reconstitute herself? She's a ghost; can't she just kill whoever this partner is?"

"I don't know, maybe she needs to become whole again to kill him, to take the life away from others like he took from her, even though he wasn't the one that took it away."

"But he was the one that took away her chance to live, to keep her soul so to speak. So who was her photographer?" She asked as Sam scrolled down on the page he had been reading.

"Oh my God, it explains the last two deaths."

"Sam, who is it?"

"Her photographer was Professor Carl Bowen." Tate looked at him, her eyes wide and it seemed as if pieces of this 'mystery' so to speak were being put together. As she went to say something more to Sam about the 'good professor' the familiar sound of her ringer went off and she lunged for her back pocket. Flipping it open and hitting the talk button she brought the small silver phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Miss King? This is Shauna Monroe from the college."

"Oh hi Shauna. What's up?"

"I talked to Professor Summers and she said she could meet you for lunch at this small coffee shop off campus." Tate smiled and looked at Sam.

"Thanks, perfect timing."


	11. Author's Note 2

Author's Note

I just got one of those ideas that can really twist the rest of the story, and no its not Tate and Dean running off and getting married in Vegas or something like that; even though some people wouldn't mind if I did that. Speaking of Tate and Dean, the whole thing about her pushing him away happened because she basically said no mixing business with pleasure. Just wanted to clear that up incase anyone was confused.

Now back to my latest idea; I know that it was said early on that Tate's mother was mauled by a Wendigo but I clearly said **mauled** not killed, not that her body was ever found. I know you just got a little more about Ben in the last chapter, but I think I want to bring her mother back from the dead, kinda. I have a feeling, if I do what I'm going to do, Tate's mom might just turn out to be one of the women she's meeting at this coffee shop.

So let me know what you think before I update anymore.

Keep on reading, putting up with the crazyness and reviewing. :)

Thanks a lot

B.E17


	12. Over Heated

Chalk it up to the heat, lack of new Supernatural episodes or just gossiping with a girl friend on AIM, but here's the latest chapter. I wrote it around a 'Cheesy One-Liner' my friend gave me on IM and I owe the rest of it all to her, love ya Riss. Anyways, enjoy, I know we did, and the 'creepy' comes back in Chapter 11. I haven't really written Chapter 11 yet, but I have it all in my head, so no worries. Keep reading and reviewing.

* * *

Chapter 10- Over Heated

"So how are we going to get down to this coffee shop?" Tate asked as she flopped backwards onto an empty bed. "Dean has the Impala."

"Where did he go?" Sam asked from the laptop, his eyes watching Tate's every move. She was moving slower than she had been earlier when Sam, still half asleep at the time, saw her fly out of the room. But she was too much like Dean, never admitting when she was hurt or needed some help.

"No clue. He got pissed off at me and took off, you know your brother Sammy." She said as she looked up at the ceiling and swore she heard Sam laugh a little under his breath. "Shauna told me the name of place though, we could always catch a cab."

"Well whats the name of it?"

"No need to get your boxers in a twist Sam. Bayside Campus Coffee."

"All right, I'll make some calls, you relax." Upon hearing the word relax, she proped herself up on her hands and raised an eye brow in his direction.

"Relax?"

"Tate, didn't we save you from a very pissed off ghost about an hour ago?"

"Oh that! Sam, I'll be fine." She told him as she flipped onto her stomach and buried her face into a pillow; it smelt like Dean. "How long do we have to hang out Sammy?"

"Two hours or so." He sounded distracted, most likely still playing with the computer.

"What are you doing?" Her voice came out muffled due to the pillow that she refused to let go, the scents of Dean's shampoo and cologne were still caught along the fibers of the cheap pillow case material.

"Looking up more stuff on Tracy Allerdyce. I think there's a lot Professor Bowen isnt' telling us."

"Of course there is, if he was involved with what happened and didn't tell anyone then, do you think he's going to tell now? Now, with all of these deaths? And if he says he thinks it's her ghost, no one will believe him." She told him as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and scowled when she found a smudge of black eye liner on her skin. "Shitty make-up." She mumbled.

"I'm going to go outside." She said a few minutes later; finally pushing herself up off the bed. Her shoulder popped as she did so and Sam heard a small sigh escape her lips and wonder how hurt she really was and how much she wasn't telling him.

"What's outside?"

"Sammy, this is California, it's about ninety degrees out already and I repeat, it's California; there's a pool outside." Getting out of bed, she chagned from her jeans to a pair of shorts and flip flops, leaving her black camisol on before stopping behind Sam and ruffling his hair.

"You worry too much about me, knock it off."

"Then stop making me worry, I swear, you're just like him sometimes." Inwardly, Tate hated when he compared her to Dean, but didn't say anything about it.

Giggling, she messed up his hair again and then walked out of the room heading to the back of the building. As she came to the cast iron fence, she leaned her hands ontop of it and looked at the pool; kids were leaping in and out of the water, giggling and playing games of tag or volley ball. Parents sat on the sides, sitting in lounge chairs and watched their children play. Innocence was something Tate didn't have much of as a kid, she went from child to adult in what felt like a matter of moments. Pushing open the fence, she walked into the pool and after getting bumped into by a diving board bound little boy, she stole a lounge chair. She stretched her long legs out and looked up at the sun, her eyes closed tight. She thought about Dean and where he probably was.

"Probably drinking himself stupid." She mumbled as she listened to the sounds around her. She heard giggling, splashing, the occasional yell, the sound of cars driving past the hotel and more sounds of normal life. It was as if Sam, Tate and Dean existed in a tiny bubble where only they saw what was really going on. Her father had told her that at an early age, only a handful of people knew what hid in the shadows and she was going to be apart of that handful.

An hour later, she still sat on the lounge and her head began to flood with memories of heat, sun tan oil, and Him. The people that occupied other chairs around her began to fade away into nothing but olive and tanned colored blurs and soon Tate found herself back on an overly sun warmed lounge chair resting on the hot concrete that lined her aunt's in ground pool. Sam had been inside the restored main house of her aunt's Southern plantation, saying him and Garrett didn't need to see whatever Tate and Dean were planning to do, so it was _just _Tate and Dean. She could remember the way his swimming trunks slid down low on his narrow hips and the way the sunlight bounced off the water drops rolling down his tanned shoulders. That was the way she always remembered Dean, handsome, tanned and of course, dripping wet and that smirk he gave her before he dove in. She could see it all in her mind's eye, him diving into the pool and sliding gracefully along the bottom. And when he'd pop up to the surface, he'd scrub the water from his eyes and rake his hands through his hair, sending it into tiny brown spikes. She watched him do lap after lap, those muscle in his arms, legs and back flexing with each push through the water. She remembered watching him take to the ladder and just as gracefully slide out of the pool and make his way to her. She remembered the way his wet palms felt against her cheek and the still lingering scent of coconut sun tan lotion that clung to his skin. She would, from that day on, always associate the smell of sun tan lotion with Dean. She could remember his cool hands slipping into her hair as he leaned closer and pressed his lips to hers; they even tasted like sun tan oil. She never complained, in fact she enjoyed it. His fingers threaded through her hair and wound up at the base of her neck, without even thinking, Tate still felt his fingers parting each lock and dividing it up into tiny rows. She felt his long fingers trickle down her neck to the ties of her halter like top of her bathing suit and tug at one of the strings she had tied in a bow; allowing the very top of her shirt to flop down over her collar bone. In both her memory and the present, she sighed as Dean stood back up and pulled apart, only to move over to her ear, and whispered something.

"Come swimming with me."

And at the moment, Tate was putty in those lotion laced hands. She remembering seeing herself stand up as he dove back into the water, just as graceful as before, and watched that sinfully tanned body glide through the crystal clear waters. She was a very, very lucky girl, what had she done to deserve this? As he surfaced again, he stood in the shallow end and looked at her with those piercing jade colored eyes, bent a finger at her and called her towards him. Tate remembered coming into the water herself, cursing at how cold it was and before she could get out another insult to the offending water, she was pulled right up against his chest. _It's warm here _she thought as he bent down to catch her lips for a second time. This time it was her hands in his hair and wrapped them around his head, bringing him down closer. Her fingers mimed his and just as he had done earlier, her fingers trailed their way down his neck and applied pressure there, she heard him moan a little across her lips and felt him arch more towards her touch. Her hands, now flattened out right below his neck, slowly made their way to his broad shoulders and rested on them. Long painter like fingers traced small designs onto his shoulder blades and the pad of her thumb rubbed over a large scar. The scarred bumped up skin contrasted sharply with the rest of his body; rough and calloused against smooth and unmarred. Her hands, knowing the map of his back, made their way down to his hips and each small palm wrapped around the narrow sharp bones there. Dean's hands were placed on her back as well, both large palm fit on the small of her back perfectly and brough her closer to him, almost crushing her into his body. From the outside of the pool, they must have looked like one oddly shaped being; they fit perfectly together. Tate's head could be tucked right under Dean's chin and at that moment, Tate remembered it was and her lips were attached to his throat, running over the collum of muscle and the wet black cord of his necklace. The charm that hung off of it was smushed between their bodies and left indentation marks in Tate's chest. Her own pooka shell choker was recieving the same treatment, Dean's lips running over it. As he arched backwards to pick her up out of the water and one of her long legs slid around his hip, she heard a cough; something wasn't right.

Blinking a few times, watching the sight of her and Dean in her Aunt Sophia's pool ebb back to the kid filled water that sat in front of her. Part of her clawed and attempted to reach out for the last tiny wisps of the memory, but they were too far gone. With a pained expression she pried her eyes off of the water and looked back up into the sun. The shadow blacken figure looked down at her and smiled. She knew right away who it was and what he wanted, but she didn't want to leave yet, she was still somewhere on Memory Lane and was about to make the turn of to the Point of No Return.

"Come on Tate, we gotta go." Sam said. Tate looked up at him, her eyes almost blazing yet there was this far away look that still haunted them. "What's wrong ?" He asked as he kneeled near the lounger.

"Nothing, I was just thinking."

"About Dean?" Normally she'd fight him, but this time she smiled and looked him dead in the eye.

"Yes about Dean and you, my darling, have the worst timing in the world." She told him as they both stood and turned toward the gates.

"Okay, what does that mean?" He asked; an eye brow arched.

"I was getting to the good part and you showed up. Just like when we were kids." She muttered as she stood and followed him back inside. She slid past him as she walked out of the gate and looked back at him with a smile on her face. Sam knew that smile and right away began regretting asking her about it.

"OH! Don't even tell me Tate. That's my brother! And I here enough from him, I don't need to hear it from you now too! Can we just go meet these people and not discuss this?"

"Of course we can Sammy."

"And please, do not bring this up at lunch."

"Sam, you know what happens in my head stays in my head." She told him as she pinched him on the cheek and headed up to the hotel room.

* * *

Note: I'll be going on vacation in two weeks and I plan, as long as the ideas keep coming, to update as much as I can before July 21st. After that, most likely there won't be another update til the beginning of August. Just giving you all a heads-up. B.E17 


	13. Keys to the Past

Chapter 11- Keys to the Past

_"Hey! You've reached Tate's place, sorry I couldn't get to the phone right now but if you leave your name, number and a message, I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Love Ya. Later. Bye." _

Micah Rockwell cursed into his cell phone as the loud beep filled his ear once again. Tate had been gone from work for nearly two weeks, she had told their boss she'd be back in a few days but she hadn't turned up yet. Micah was the only person who knew how to get a hold of her but he couldn't even find her.

"Hey Tate, it's Micah again. This is like the tenth message I've left you today. Where are you kiddo? Alex is having a shit fit; you haven't been in work in two weeks. Where are you? I stopped by your place the other day; you weren't there and a lot of your clothes are gone. Did you go on some trip or something? Kid call me back when and if you get this. I'm this close to placing a missing persons report on you down at the police station. We need to talk; Alex is talking about firing you if you don't show up at the office soon. Please call me back." With a sigh, he closed his cell phone, tossed it onto the passenger's seat of his SUV and flipped on his blinker, turning down the street to his house.

* * *

Sam sat across from Tate and watched her stir sugar into her coffee, a smile on her face. She had bothered him the whole cab ride over to the Bayside Campus Cafe, always coming too close to give him too many details about whatever event she had been day dreaming about. She would lean over and whisper things in his ear that would make him shudder and then sit back upright in a fit of giggles; whatever she was thinking about put her in a very good mood, despite what happened earlier. Hearing the bell above the door ring and a couple of shouts hello to the new arrivals, Sam looked up and saw Shauna Monroe and an older woman walk in. Right away Sam's jaw dropped; the woman behind Shauna looked exactly like Tate, just older. Her auburn hair, some of the lighter red high lights had gone gray, fell in a warm brown wave to a little past her shoulder and just a tint darker lavender eyes hid behind square shaped glasses; Tate wore contacts and refused to be seen wearing her glasses. They had the same straight nose, with just a tiny bump in the bridge, same full lips and high cheek bones, same angled face and eye brows that could arch higher than most. But the one thing different about this woman was the claw like jagged scar that ran from behind her left ear, down her neck and onto her shoulder, disappearing under her shirt. With a shaking hand, Sam reached out and tapped Tate on the shoulder.

"Umh, I think Shauna and Professor Summers are here." He mumbled and Tate arched an eye brow.

"Okay, what's wrong Sammy? Did you forget something? What? Get a vision or whatever?"

"No, no, I'm fine."

"Sure, okay. Are you going to ask them those questions we were going over in the cab?"

"You mean going over in between you telling me graphic details of a night in your aunt's pool?"

"Yeah those." She said as Shauna appeared next to her. "Hey Shauna, thanks for meeting with us." She said, slipping back into old routines and patterns.

"Not a problem. Oh, Professor Summers, this is the report I was telling you about, Tatum King. Tate, this is Professor Serena Summers." Shauna made the introductions, but they seemed not to be needed. Tate and Serena were starring at each other, as if they were looking at their reflections. Tate literally saw herself in the reflection that bounced off Serena's glasses and looked back at Sam, her eyes wide with shock.

"Tatum? Tate? My Tate?" Serena rasped as she reached out to touch Tate's face. Tate normally backed away when people touched her, Dean and Sam included, but she didn't move, in fact, she leaned into the touch. Tate looked at the woman who she only remembered from her dreams and felt her throat tighten; her mother was alive and standing right in front of her. She wasn't going to cry, Sam didn't need to see that; hell he'd get her back for all the crap she had put him through in the cab.

"I...I thought...me and dad, that day in the woods. I saw the..." Tate looked over her shoulder at Shauna; she stood there in shock, she didn't need to hear anything about the monster that had destroyed Tate's family. "...that thing take you. I thought you were...dead." She mumbled as she fought to hold tears back. Serena looked over her daughter's shoulder and locked eyes with Sam.

"You're Mary and John's youngest, Sam, aren't you?" She asked taking the appearance that was clearly a mix of her two old friends.

"Yes I am Professor."

"And you're a good friend of Tate's?"

"He's the best." Tate muttered as she turned her back on all of them and quickly swiped away a tear or two.

"Would you mind if I borrowed her for a few minutes?"

"No, go ahead. I'll be here Tate; I have to talk to Shauna." Tate nodded and followed her mother to the back of the cafe, into the small hallway that divided the coffee shop from the bathrooms and pay phones. As soon as they were alone, mother and daughter starred each other down and Tate didn't say a word.

"Look at you, all grown up. The last time I saw you, you were so tiny and only six. Garrett was just as small, how is he?" Tate bit down on her lip and looked down at the ground, wishing for the first time in a long time that Dean was there to help her explain. "Tate?"

"Sere...Mom." The word sounds foreign and takes a while for her to understand how it sounds in her head. She hadn't used that word since she was six and very rarely in the past twenty years even said more than two words about her mother and when she was asked about her parents at work related things it was always the stock answer; "Dad travels a lot on business and mom died when I was young."

"It's okay Tate, take your time."

"Mom, Garrett's dead." She said her face stony and almost casual; unlike Serena's. Her beautiful face fell and Tate felt rotten on the inside, she had gotten used to saying her brother was gone, but Serena didn't even know what had happened.

"What happened?" There was a long answer for that and an even simpler one; one she told friends, co-workers and strangers. One she didn't shared with them and one she only shared with Sam and Dean.

"Car accident." She said, almost with a shrug and nearly fell over when she heard Serena laugh slightly. That rotten feeling quickly changed to the familiar angry one and felt the bile rise in her throat. "It was funny, why are you laughing?" She ground out around almost clenched teeth.

"Your father hunts these monsters, demons, ghosts and whatever else is out in the dark and it was a car accident." Tate's mouth hit the floor, almost mirroring the expression she never saw on Sam's face.

"You knew...know about that?"

"How do you think I got this scar?" Serena asked, showing her the long scar on her left side; to Tate's overly trained eyes, it was a Wendigo's claw. "Your father was on a hunt when it happened, that's why we went on that camping trip. When that monster grabbed me, it took me to its...lair I guess and then left went out hunting again maybe. When it left, I ran; bloody and almost dead, but I ran. Some deer hunter found me, took care of me and brought me to a hospital."

"What happened to him?"

"I married him.

"Dad's not married, well he is, to killing every fucking Wendigo out there. He thinks you're dead, how come you never came looking for us?"

"I did, but when I came back to Boston, you were gone. Our old neighbors said you three had packed up and moved, saying something about Kansas. So I figured you went to see John, make sure he was all right, you weren't there either; the Winchester house was empty. I kept looking, but every time I got so close to finding you, you were gone."

"I don't hunt anymore, well up until two weeks ago I didn't..."

"Wait, your father taught you how to hunt?"

"Sam and Dean do too. That's why I'm here, investigating those dark room deaths." She said and right away, she was all business again. "I want to have time to catch up with you, but I don't have time right now. I have to help the boys find a way to stop these kids from dying. Do you know anything?" Tate asked as Serena smiled. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You are just like Ben, and I might know a few things."

* * *

Later that night, after Sam and Tate got as much as they could out of Shauna and Serena, and Tate had made plans to spend time with her mother after all of this ghost stuff was over, they headed to the college library and went back to researching. Tate sat in front of a computer, a pen tucked behind her ear and was in journalist mode; copying down every fact she could find about how to deal with a ghost like Tracy. One that used souls to restore herself and then how to get rid of it.

"Don't you think that's a little graphic Tate?"

"Sam she attacked me, it's not graphic its payback. And no, I don't think it's that bad. You and Dean have done worse."

"But what kind of blade do we use?"

"A double edged one lace with silver." She read, right off the computer. "Do we have one of those Sammy?"

"Probably in the trunk. What else do we need?"

"A ring of salt, a Bible written in Latin and some Holy water. Not that bad."

"How do we lure her to us?"

"She feeds off guilt, I'll do it; be bait. I mean, she already got me once, why not do it again?" She asked shrugging.

"I don't like the idea and you sure as hell know Dean won't go for it."

"Do you want other people to die?"

"No but..."

"Then it's settled. Lets get out of here; I've had one hell of a day." Tate said as she stood up, back arching and spine cracking. As they walked out, Sam called another cab and in a matter of moments, they were headed back to their hotel. When the cab pulled into the parking lot, Tate nudged Sam with her elbow and nodded toward the sleek black car parked in front of their room; Dean was back. Sam paid the driver when he pulled up behind the Impala and Tate got out, slowly making her way towards the door. Pushing it open, she found the short sleeved flannel shirt Dean had been wearing earlier laid out across the bed with a note on it. Walking toward it and dropping her purse next to it, she picked it up and read it.

_"Sammy, Tate:_

_If you're reading this and I'm not in the room, then I'm still out by the pool. Got back here and you guys weren't here. I'll talk to you when I see you. Tate, I'm sorry about leaving earlier._

_Dean."_

"That from Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy, I'll go get him."

"Where is he?"

"Out by the pool." She said with a grin.

"Get away from me. I'm done with all that pool crap."

Laughing, she slipped past Sam like she had done earlier and retraced her steps to the pool. This time it was much quieter and from the looks of it, from her place behind the fence, she and Dean were alone. He was lying stretched out on one of the lounge chairs, his arms behind his head and legs crossed at the ankles. She couldn't tell from where she was if he was awake or not, but she'd find out when she got closer. Bare feet, her flip flops were left back in the room, padded across warm concrete and silently she made her way over to him; she knew she wouldn't be able to sneak up on him, he was a Winchester after all, but she could try. When she got to him, hovering over him, she saw that he was asleep; his eyes shut comfortably and his breathing deep. Kneeling down, much like Sam had done to her earlier; she brushed her hand over his face and threaded her fingers through his soft hair. With a sigh and a shift of his weight, Dean's eyes slowly opened and looked up at her, a slow lazy smile tugging at his lips.

"I didn't think you'd come out here, I thought you'd send Sammy." Tate laughed a little at him and swatted his feet, telling him to scrunch up and let her sit down at the end of the lounger.

"If I wanted to yell at you, do you think I'd send Sam?"

"So you're going to yell?"

"No, I was kidding. I'm not mad at you."

"You should be."

"Well I'm not, so knock it off De." She said as she leaned over to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I thought we weren't going to mix business and pleasure Tate?"

"Business and pleasure has always been mixed with us, De. And besides, I've been thinking today."

"About?"

"How we used to be." Dean laughed and looked at the calm water behind her.

"You were out here and tell me, you were thinking about that time in your aunt's pool?"

"Damn straight I was. One our finest moments Dean."

"That it was Tate that it was." He said; stretching his arms over his head and then leaving them open for her as an invitation. With a smile, she slid over his legs, turned around and settled herself against his chest, her legs sliding in between his. Long strong arms wrapped around her slim waist and fingers laced, resting over her belt. Dean brought his head down and kissed her bare shoulder. "What are we doing Tate?"

"Attempting to go back to the way we were before Garrett's accident."

"So this morning never happened?" Tate laughed a little.

"I didn't say that Dean, it did happen just not the part when I pushed you away." She told him and sealed that with a kiss. It wasn't really anything special, heated or romantic, just a kiss. When they pulled apart, Tate left a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose and smiled. "I have some shit to tell you!" She giggled.

"About the ghost? What did you and Sammy find out?"

"No! Not that, it's about me."

"Just like always." That comment received a twist of the skin on his wrist as payback. "All right! All right! I take it back, stop pinching! So what happened?" And just like that, Tate broke into the story about her mother and how they had plans for lunch. Somewhere, something inside of the both of them fell back to normal, like it had been when they were kids and they both figured maybe they'd be okay this time.


	14. Wild, Wicked and Wrong

Hey guys, here's chapter 12 and there's a little creepy in it, toward the middle, hinthint. And from the way I set it up, there's a lot more creepy to come. But I'm not going to be able to update till, most likely, the first week of August. I'm going on vacation for ten days. But have no fear, I'm bringing enough paper and pens to supply a classroom with me, so I'll be writing and I'll have an update or two when I come home. This note goes for my other two stories which I don't think I'll be able to update by the end of this week. So, keep reading and reviewing.

* * *

Chapter 12- Wild, Wicked and Wrong

Lightning bugs popped up and vanished, lighting up the night and going out again like tiny blinking bulbs, grasshoppers sang to one another and the sticky sweet summer breeze blew around the pool, catching Tate's long hair and blowing a piece into Dean's face. The two were still sitting on the lounge chair, Tate drawing tiny designs onto the back of Dean's hands and idly traced a small scar on one of his knuckles. The small white line had caught her attention earlier and now her fingers barely left it, there was something about Dean's scars that memorized her.

"Hey." She heard him mumble into her hair.

"Yeah?"

"What are we doing out here?"

"Absolutely nothing." She mumbled, hoping they'd be able to go back to that almost uncomfortable silence she found herself mildly enjoying. Feeling Dean shift behind her, she pinched his hand and found herself getting roughly tossed to the side of the lounger.

"What the hell was that for?" Tate growled; her eyes glowing as she looked up at Dean who now stood besides the chair stretching. For a moment, as muscles pulled themselves taunt across both the abdomen and chest that she had worshiped as a teenager, she almost forgot why she was angry in the first place but it came smashing back when that devilish smirk graced his lips that would soon be drawn into a pout that she normally found herself starring at.

"If we're going to sit out here and do nothing, I'm going to advantage of the scenery and go swimming." He said as the short sleeved flannel shirt he wore was shrugged off and landed in a puddle near his feet, followed by the skin tight black wife beater he wore, shoes, socks and then well worn slowly fading jeans. If anyone had dared to walk through the fence right now and stand upon the still warm concrete they would've found Tate perched on the end of the lounge chair with her eyes wide as saucers and jaw hanging open slightly. And in that moment, watching Dean dive into the pool, she had realized it had been a very long time since she herself had gone swimming. Moving from the chair, she watched him come to the surface, swim to the side and vault himself back onto the concrete and stand in front of her; all hard muscle, water darkened boxers and dripping wet skin.

"So, do you plan on coming in or what?" Slowly she uncurled herself from the way she was sitting and stalked over to him, her eyes glowing with the same light Dean had seen that night in her Aunt's pool and smiled at her. Long fingers gripped his shoulders, her body close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin and she leaned in to nip at his jaw. As he bent his head to catch her lips, he was caught off guard by the feeling of her pushing him and flying backwards toward the water. But he didn't land with a splash; instead he landed on a drifting pool raft left there by a previous swimmer. Looking up at her, they locked eyes and he grinned.

"Think we can out do what happened in your aunt's pool?" Dean asked as Tate returned the grin. She never answered him, just walked over to the in ground steps, hips swaying in tune with the sticky and rare summer breeze, and gracefully plunged one foot into the water.

* * *

Back in the hotel room, Sam sat on the edge of one of the beds and aimlessly flipped through the channels. He knew, when Tate didn't come back, that it was going to be just him for the night and now, about two hours later, he was growing a little too annoyed. Pushing himself off the bed, he tossed the remote onto the pillow, slipped his shoes back on and grabbed the keys to the Impala. He knew his brother was too busy to get mad about him taking his car, he probably wasn't even aware that there were other people in the world besides him and Tate. A few minutes later he found himself driving down a somewhat crowded main street and found a bar with several empty parking spaces available. Dean was always telling him to loosen up and have some fun, so he decided he'd take his brother advice and try it, even if he only had a little fun. Walking into the bar, Sam found himself surround by college students hanging out with their friends, playing pool, drinking and just relaxing; something he used to do with Jessica and his own friends back at Stanford on a Friday night. After ordering himself a beer, he found an empty booth and sat in the corner, leaning against the wall. So he wasn't having any fun yet and if Dean was here, he'd probably be getting yelled at, but at least he was beginning to unwind. 

An hour later, as Sam nursed his third beer, a young woman around his age sat down across from him. Her blue eyes startled him, they were so very blue, almost like a sapphire, her long brown hair fell in curved angles around her face and a smile graced her lips.

"Hi." Sam said, sitting up a little straighter.

"Hi, I hope you don't mind me sitting here but me and my friends have been watching you since you walked in and I think you're really cute." She giggled, just what Sam needed; a giggling somewhat drunk college girl. This was Dean's kind of girl, drunk, fawning all over him and willing to do whatever he wanted. Sam smiled at the girl.

"I'm Sam."

"Kara." They talked for awhile and he could tell she was drunk, she laughing at some of lame jokes he could remember his friend Chris back at Stanford telling him and no laughed at those jokes. After the string of mind numbing jokes ended, Sam watched her thoughtfully as her fingers danced around the neck of her beer bottle and decided to do something.

"Do you want to go see if we can steal a pool table and play a game or two?" He asked hopefully, in dire need of stretching his long legs. Kara's eyes seemed to light up and her smiled widened.

"Sounds fun, but I'm not that good. Can you teach me?"

"Of course." He stood first and then stuck a hand out, offering it to her. The two slipped in and out of the crowd of people and found an empty pool table on the other side of the room. After handing a cue to Kara, he situated himself behind her, his chin resting on her shoulder and hands wrapped around hers on the very end of the cue and proceeded to teach her how to play. She squealed every time she hit a ball, even if it never made it to the pocket, it just simply amazed her.

_"Yeah, she's Dean's type all right." _He thought as she giggled when a ball collided with another. This went on for a little while longer until Sam left her side and began to play across from her.

"We're going to a play a real game Sam?"

"Something like that." He murmured as he attempted to fall into a mind set that he could allow a little fun to creep in on. They stayed there, playing pool, drinking beers and having Kara dance up against him when one of her many favorite songs came through the speakers for the entire night, until the owner of the bar shooed that last of the bar flies out, included the two of them. Out in cooler night air, Sam sucked in a deep breath and looked at Kara.

"So, where did your friends go?"

"Probably back to the dorm."

"Oh. Do you need a lift back?" He asked, jamming his hands into his front pockets.

"Yeah I do." She smiled and looked around the parking lot for a car that possibly screamed Sam, but was taken aback when he lead her over to the Impala.

"It's beautiful, is it yours?" Kara was in awe, she had never seen a car like that before.

"No, my older brothers. But he let me use it for the night, he's back at the hotel with his...um...girlfriend." Sam stated, raking a hand through his hair and then opened the passenger's door for her, watching her slide into his normal seat. Walking around to the driver's side, he paused for a minute and noticed the wind had picked up, whipping around him and biting at the back of his neck. Ignoring it, Sam slid into the driver's seat and turned the car on, the engine roaring as he put it into reverse and flew out of the lot. The two drove in silence, the radio on low and barely humming. Sam pulled up toward the college and looked out the front window. The sky grew darker, if that was possible, the thick clouds that had just appeared over head began to swirl and the wind picked up yet again, sending things flying across the lot. A strike of lightning illuminated the campus and sent an ivory shaft of light into the Impala, caressing Sam's face and roughly streaking across Kara's. With a billowing roar, straight out of Kara's chest shot a black inky cloud and the passenger's side door opened, Kara's crumpled body was tossed out into the street. The soft features of the young woman who had been sitting next to him, soft lush curves and pouty lips vanished and in their wake appeared sharp sunken in cheek bones, skin stretched tightly across the planes of her face and gray lifeless chapped lips; it was the ghost from the dark room. She had possessed Kara, who she now no longer needed, and had Sam right where she wanted him.

"Hello Sam Winchester." The ghost cooed, her dead skin covered hand reaching out to touch his face. "Where's Miss King?"

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Shrill, high pitched giggles filled the silent hall of the hotel as Tate and Dean swayed back to their room, his strong arms wrapped around her waist and water trickled down from her hair. Over her sun tanned shoulders was Dean's flannel shirt and her shorts rode low on her hips; who knew where her tank top went. 

"De, I have to go back to the pool before morning."

"Why?"

"I lost my shirt. I don't need some kid finding it tomorrow when he goes swimming."

"Later, not now." He said as he kissed her neck and her hand snaked around to his back pocket, pulling his room key out. Slipping the key into the lock, she pushed Dean away for a second and opened the door. Walking into the room, she took note of the heavy darkness and silence around her, something wasn't right. The beds were empty, the TV and air conditioning off, the laptop sat closed on the small table and Sam's shoes were gone.

"Dean, did Sam go out and not tell us?"

"He might've gone out to get a bite to eat."

"De, its almost four in the morning. This isn't like Sam at all, something's wrong."


	15. Little Brothers

Okay, the creepy is back and hopefully it'll get better in the next chapter. I have only three more chapters to do in Dark Room and then I'm gonna start writing, hopefully if you guys think I should, a sequel called Dark Roads.Let me know what you think about this and the idea for the sequel, so keep reading and reviewing.

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Chapter 13- Little Brothers

Tate tapped her nails nervously on the door handle on the passengers side of her mother's Explorer and starred aimlessly out the front window. It was barely five in the morning, but you were allowed to call upon your parents that early if it was important; finding Sam was important. Serena sat in the driver's seat, her weary eyes focused on the road and Dean was in back. A wave of guilt kept washing over her, it was non stop, and her thoughts kept rushing back to Sam. It was all her fault, if she had stayed or came back earlier and hadn't got so caught up with Dean, Sam would still be in the room. Serena's tired eyes fell on Tate and a sigh escaped her. Serena was only there because, if Sam was at the college, she could get them in without any trouble.

"Tate, stop tapping." Her mother said, reaching over to grab her hand, only to have Tate jerk away as soon as she reached for her.

"She's right Tate, its making me nervous." Dean said, leaning up toward her seat and looking over at her. She wanted to slap him; he was just as much at fault here too.

"It's all my fault. I left to go find you, Sam left and now we have no idea where the hell he is."

"Well, we did have fun." He said with that smirk; Tate rolled her eyes and flicked him on the nose.

"Dean, this is not the time or the place. We have to find Sam." She told him as he fell back onto his seat and looked back at her.

"Where are we going to start looking?"

"The college first."

"Sounds like a good place to me." Serena said as she pulled up to the stop light and flipped on her blinker; preparing to make the right hand turn to start heading toward the campus.

"The college? Are you sure?"

"Dean..." She said, turning around in her seat to look at him. "...something about this doesn't feel right. I really don't think he got caught up at some diner with a greasy burger."

"You know who he eats."

"Dean! I'm not joking so stop screwing around." Serena winced at the sound of her daughter shouting so early in the morning, but gracefully turned the car and headed toward the college. Dean sat in perfect silence in the back seat, watching Tate turn around and fall back into her seat with a huff. She continued tapping, her nails pinging on the interior of the door and then, he heard the familiar sounds of her chunky combat boots pounding on the floor boards; just what he needed her foot tapping too. A few minutes later, Serena pulled into her space in the teacher's parking lot and let the two of them out.

"Are you two going to be all right?"

"Yeah ma, we'll be fine." Tate said, giving Serena half of a hug through the window.

"Dean, watch out for her will you?"

"Of course Serena, I've been watching out for her for years."

"Yeah, yeah, watching out for me my ass." Tate muttered as she tugged at the sleeves of her hoodie; it was still early and the air had a too cool tinge to it. A slight breeze, like the one she first felt when she walked into the darkroom picked up and wrapped around her; the hair on her arms stood up straight, something was going on here.

"How do we get in?"

"Dean, here are my keys, I'll need them back so don't lose them. But there's a master key on there, the only with the black dot on it, that can get you into the art department. The other key, with the piece of masking tape on it, is for the science wing. It won't work any where else but that building. So I'd stick with the master key and if you need to, use it to get into the art building."

"Where do you think we should look first?" Tate asked, wrapping Dean's arm around her shoulders; still unable to get the chill to leave her.

"You said the ghost attacked all those girls in the dark room, so head for the art department."

"Thanks ma."

"Yeah thanks Serena."

"Good luck you two and be careful." She said as she revved the engine and pealed out of the parking lot. Once she left, Dean looked down at Tate and placed a kiss on her head.

"What's the matter? I know you don't get scared."

"I'm not, I'm cold."

"Cold? You're wearing shorts and a hoodie and its almost seventy degrees out."

"Not that kinda cold, the kinda cold you feel when something is wrong or in our case, when something bad is around." She told him as he pulled her closer and they began walking toward the college. "I just want to kill this bitch and get it over with."

"Sam had the Impala, we don't have any weapons." Dean said as Tate scanned the parking lot and found a familiar set of tail lights starring back at her.

"Found the car." She said as she took off running, the car was still on and parked near the side entrance to the dorms. Coming closer to the car, she heard the familiar sound of whimpering and rushed to the passenger's side, praying it was Sam but found a scared girl instead. Her clothes were rumpled and tears tracked down her face. Kneeling down in front of her, Tate reached out and tried to grab her shoulder, but the girl pulled away and screamed.

"Hey! Knock it off! I'm here to help!"

"Just don't touch me, get away!"

"All right, I won't touch you. I'm here to help you." She said as she shrugged off her hoodie and handed it to the girl.

"I'm Tate."

"Kara."

"What happened to you Kara?" Dean asked, coming up behind Tate and giving the girl a hand up.

"I don't remember."

"What do you remember? Tate asked, rubbing her now bare arms; her tank top provided no warmth now.

"Me and a couple of girl friends were getting ready to go out, I went to get my car and then I was surrounded by a black fog. The next thing I know, I'm laying out here on the ground."

"She was possessed." Dean whispered to Tate, she nodded and then pulled out her cell phone.

"Kara, I'm gonna call you a cab and when it gets here, you're going to go home and get some sleep. You just had too much to drink that's all, you'll be fine later." Tate turned to Dean. "Wait with her; I'm going to see if I can find Sam."

"What! You're not going in there alone."

"The ghost wants me not you, stay here. Sam and I talked about this, just now he's the bait and I gotta run in and save him. It'll work, I promise. I find him and when she's gone, you come in with the stuff."

"I don't like…" She cut him off when she placed to fingers over his lips.

"I knew you wouldn't. But I'll be fine; I know what I'm doing." Dean sighed and gave into her, raking a hand through his hair.

"Give me a call when you find Sam."

"Of course." She told him as she kissed him before taking off toward the building, disappearing from Dean's line of sight as she threw herself into the shadows. Pulling out the keys her mother gave them, she opened the doors to the art building and headed in. First thing she did was pull around her small book bag and grabbed the flashlight she had in there. All the lights were turned off in school and she really didn't need to set something off by turning them on. Along with the flashlight came one of Dean's guns she grabbed from a dresser drawer before she left and walked down the hall; the only sounds around her were the normal sounds of the building and her boots hitting the floor.

"Sam!" She hissed, her voice coming out through the small gap between the top and bottom rows of her teeth. "Sam where are you!" She called again as she crept further down the hall, coming to Professor Bowen's class. Hearing something scrape across the floor in his class, she shined the beam of light inside and walked in slowly, flash light and gun held out in front of her.

"Miss King!" Startled, Tate dropped the flash light and locked eyes with Professor Bowen. A gasp escaped her lips and nearly squeezed the trigger.

"Jesus Professor! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" She hissed as she picked up the flash light and turned it off, the gun slipped into her pocket.

"I could ask you the same thing Miss King."

"I'm here for a reason, what about you?"

"I'm here getting things ready for Monday."

"Its five thirty on a Sunday morning, I think you have some time till Monday. You know what's going on, don't you?" He rubbed his face with both hands and let out a quivering sigh.

"It's Tracy, she's after me."

"Tracy? The ghost!"

"Yes the ghost. She's after me, she only needs one more soul to become human and come after me. I've read up on it, it's one life for another. She'll take my place on this plane and I'll die."

"Why the hell didn't you tell us earlier? I have no idea how to kill her!"

"You can only kill her after she gets her last soul."

"Damn! She's going to use Sam and then kill you!"

"Sam? One of your friends?"

"Yes! The tall one with brown hair. Do you know where she is?"

"She's been using the air vents to get around, so I guess she put him down in the basement where the main air conditioning unit is." Before he could say anymore Tate ran out of the classroom and headed down the hall, looking for the maintenance door that would lead her to the basement; she'd be able to get through it with the master key. When she found it, she jammed the key in the lock and threw her weight against it; when it opened the scent of a musty and stale basement hit her nose.

"Perfect, just like every fucking horror movie I've seen. I am so dead. Monster drags prey to the basement to become bait, stupid hero comes to save prey and becomes prey herself. Great." She muttered as she took to the stairs, the flash light lighting her way and the cool metal of the gun brushed against her hip. Once in the basement, she listened and heard the familiar hum of an air conditioner; she was getting close. Following the sound, she crept beneath tubes and metal vents, what a perfect place to hide, there were hardly any lights down here, just one bulb hanging from a fixture every couple hundred feet.

"Sam?" She tried again, this time she heard a muffled yell and right away knew it was him, she took off running and found him tied to a chair in front of the huge air conditioning unit. Watching him wiggle and squirm under the ropes the ghost had tied him with; Tate tried not to laugh as she pulled out her pocket knife and began to help him get lose. Once enough rope was cut, she let him untangle himself and pulled the gag from his mouth.

"What did she do to you? Are you all right?" She asked, brushing his hair back. Tate had always loved Sam a little more than her own younger brother and that's what had always hurt her the most. Even after Garrett died part of her always wanted to look after Sam, to make sure he was all right, to make sure he had the life he always wanted. She stopped by to see him while he was in college and when Jess died, she was at her funeral standing in the very back hiding behind a pair of sunglasses. After making sure he was some what okay, well his hair and face were okay, she grabbed his face between her hands and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." He said, followed by a small laugh.

"Good, you scared the shit outta me." She said, flicking his ear. "Now where did the ghost go?"

"I have no idea. She tied me up and then took off."

"Here, call your brother and tell him your okay. I don't need him calling me." She told him as she handed him her phone and pulled him in for a hug. "I was worried about you Sammy, I really was. I don't need to lose you too." She whispered into his hair, feeling far more guilty than she needed to.

"If Dean was here, he'd be screaming about chick flick moments."

"Yeah I know. Call him and then we can get outta here." She told him as they both stood; while Sam dialed Tate wandered around, looking around the basement.

"Its so gross down here, its all moldy and shit."

"It's a basement Tate, its not supposed to be clean." As Tate rounded another corner, leading to a small air conditioning unit, she felt that cold breeze pick up and found herself trapped in it. Out of the inky shadows and into the dimly lit space where Tate stood walked a figure almost identical to hers, just a little taller.

"Garrett." She breathed her eyes and mind not believing what or who stood before her. He looked exactly the same as he did the day of the car accident, same clothes, same shoes, even the same hat that she had buried. The red baseball cap fit around his head, brown wisps of hair sticking out from over his ears and at the nape of his neck. Well worn Converse High Tops still clung to his feet and the same jeans with the huge hole in the knee still covered his legs.

"Hey sis, long time no see."

"You're not real. You're not my brother. Sam! Sam help!"

"No one's going to help you, you wandered to far away and Sam's on the phone with Dean." Caught up in the breeze Tate couldn't move, she couldn't even lift a finger to reach for the gun she had in the waist of her jeans.

"What do you want? Do you really think that by showing up looking like my brother is going to get me to give you my soul?"

"No, but it'll make it easier. The more guilt that you feel, the easier it is for me to steal your soul." The ghost of Tracy Allerdyce said, but the voice was clearly Garrett's, his appearance was just another trick. "This is how I get all my victims."

"Yeah well, I'm not like everyone else."

"That's what they all say. Just give it a few minutes."

"I doubt it." Tate said laughing, her eyes never leaving the ghost. As the two starred each other down, Tate watched as something changed in the ghost's eyes and soon she saw familiar flecks of purple floating to the surface of the previously glassy gray ones.

"You left me Tate; you swam out of the car with Sam! Sam! He's not your brother! He's not even family! You left me behind Tate, you're so selfish, you saved yourself, never once did you turn back for me!"

"I did turn back! I almost drowned! I tried!" She screamed, her eyes burning with anger and starting to fill with tears.

"You left me in that car to die Tate! Did you know that the buckle to my seat belt got jammed? I couldn't get the tab to release! Dean stayed behind to help me for as long as he could, but he couldn't get me free. I was hoping my older sister would come back and save me, but you never did. I watched you swim to the surface with Sam, you only turned back once." The wind around Tate began to grow stronger and stronger; it whipped at her bare skin and caused her hair to fly around her head, her angled ends slapping against the planes of her face. The howling in her ears kept getting louder and louder till it was so loud she could barely hear herself think.

"I wanted to come back for you, but I couldn't. I would've drowned too!" She cried, tears now slipping down her face.

"And when the search parties came, Dad and John were there! Where were you? Off with Sam and Dean right? You didn't even come to look for my body!" Garrett yelled as he stepped toward his sister, nearly identical eyes blazing just like hers had before. He stepped closer and the wind died down, the howling began to fade and her hair fell back down onto her shoulders.

"I couldn't bring myself to do it Rett! If I saw you dead in the car, I would've killed myself!"

"Maybe you should have! And then you let that little punk kid replace me! You let dad find a new son, a new son to help him with the car, to help fixed guns, to polish blades and you let him! You replaced me too! With all of those guys in Boston. Every guy you slept with, every guy you took home and brought to your bed was a cheap fix to try and fill the void I made when I died. And now Dean's back in that place, just another one night attempt to erase me! And who's your little brother now huh? It is your precious Sammy?"

"Rett…" She begged; her words falling from her lips as a sob took over.

"Answer me! Is it Sammy?"

"Of course it is! I replaced you with Sam!"

"I knew it! Bitch!" For a ghost, the slap across her face felt very solid and very real. "I wanted to get away from hunting too, I wanted to go to college and have normal friends, a normal life and a pretty girlfriend. I wanted all of that and because you never came back to help me, I died! This is all your fault Tatum! Everything! My death, your lousy relationship with Dean and every other guy, yours and dad's strained relationship, Sam having to leave school and hell, even Jess's death is your fault! You set all of this into motion years ago when you swam away from me! Its all your fault!" And with that, Tate crumbled to the floor in a heap of tears and body wracking sobs.

"I'm sorry Rett, I'm so sorry!" She screamed out between wails and tears dripping down her nose.

"Now I have you Miss King!" The ghost, who had now turned back into Tracy Allerdyce growled as she grabbed Tate's face with both hands, much like Tate had done a few minutes before to Sam and rolled her eyes back. A spell in a tongue that dated back to a time before man, when the Fates ruled everything, fell from her lips and soon her hands began to glow an eerie electric blue-white. An ear piercing scream tore from Tate's throat as she felt herself literally being pulled from her stomach and out through her mouth. This time Sam heard her, her cell phone still in his hand and raced to find her.

As Sam rounded the corner to where the two woman were, he watched as color began to drain from Tate's skin and flooded up Tracy's ever darkening arms, gray turned to powder white and then to a normal olive complexion; it was reversed on Tate. With a sound, much like crinkling paper, he found himself standing stone still as Tate's skin began to shrivel up, quickly resembling that of a mummy's.

"TATE!" He screamed as the cell phone fell to the ground and he dove for the ever quickly growing solid ghost.

On the floor, Dean's voice echoed from the phone.

"SAM! What's going on! Is Tate all right! Sammy!"

Tate could feel herself slowly floating away, she could hear Sam screaming her name and the ghost's shrieks of joy, but she could do nothing to stop it. She was floating somewhere warm and safe, far from the basement, the school or even the world she had once been apart of. Everything went white and blurry for a moment and then just as fast, snapped back into color and focus.

"Tatum darling, it's not your time. You have to keep fighting." In the back of Tate's mind, somewhere in a dream she had when she was younger, she had heard that voice and could almost place it; she just needed something else to bring the face to mind. In a blur of auburn colored hair, Tate's purple eyes fell upon the person the voice came from and gasped.

"Oh my God, I thought it was you." She whispered.


	16. Speechless and Frozen

Hey guys! Welcome to Chapter 14 aka the chapter before the last chapter. I only have one left to do, not two like I originally planned. This one turned into something else and I wound up taking out a chapter. If I left it in, I think I would've drawn everything out. But don't worry, Tate's coming back for a sequel. I've talked it over with my "creative team" and we're bringing Tate back. Besides, everyone wants to see if her and Dean stay together and what happens next. So I hope you guys enjoy this, its the last really long one, the next one isn't going to be novel length. Keep reading and reviewing.

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Chapter 14- Speechless and Frozen

Dean had never ran so fast in his life; he had been walking into the building when Sam called but when he heard his younger brother scream for Tate and his own shouts went unanswered, he stuffed his phone in his pocket and took off. The long hall of the art department went past him in a dark blur, all except Professor Bowen's class; every light was on in there. Nearly tripping over himself, Dean managed to stop without getting hurt and stalked into the class room, an anger that he had never felt before wrapped around him insides. Not only was his little brother in some kind of trouble without there him to protect him, so was Tate. He had lost her once, but that time was to another state and a real job, he'd be damned if he lost her to a pissed off ghost. Before anymore red could flood his vision, he found Bowen sitting behind his desk and reached for him, grabbing him by the collar.

"What the..."

"No! I ask all the questions. Where is she?"

"She who?"

"You know damn well who she is, where's Tate?" Dean nearly roared as he pulled the man from his chair by his shirt and almost flung him through the black board behind him. Hearing Bowen wince, he shoved him harder and waited for an answer. "Where's Tate?"

"Probably dead by now, Tracy probably got to her already."

"Not the answer I was looking for!" Dean pulled him back from the chalk covered piece of slate and slammed him back into it so hard his own shoulders shook. The Professor was seeing stars and the edges of his vision was starting to get dark and hazy. "One more time, where's Tate?"

"In the basement! Please, don't hurt me!"

"Is that where the ghost is?"

"She went down there to find her friend..."

"Sam?"

"Yes! That's the one. Tracy's not that stupid, she must've used Sam as bait to lure Tate down there."

"Why does she need Tate? Answer me!"

"She needs one last soul, a strong one, very strong and unbreakable; Tate's soul."

"Why Tate? Why not you?"

"She needs Tate to get to me! This is my entire fault! I left Tracy there to die, I didn't mean to! I thought she was dead, but obviously she wasn't. Don't you understand; Tracy has become Death itself? Death took away the one person I loved more than life itself and now, it'll take Tate away from you. Tracy is going to take me away from my wife and family, the people who love me most. It's a cycle, a damned circle and with Tate's death, everything goes according to plan; it all falls into motion and the circle is complete." Bowen gasped out; the shadow around his eyes began to grow heavy, but was pulled from the welcoming warm darkness when Dean shook him.

"Stay with me old man! How the hell do I kill this thing?"

"You can only kill Death when it takes its human form; after Tracy consumes Tate's soul."

"Fine, then she'll get a last soul. You're showing me to the basement."

"You're willing to sacrifice the woman you love to kill another?"

"Tate is not going to die." Dean said simply as he nearly threw Bowen out into the hall. The older man landed in a heap on the floor, fear and rage danced in his eyes, fighting one another for dominance, as Dean walked over to him. The look in his eyes was enough to kill, a small amount of fear mixed with animalistic rage and laced between both was a hint of love that Bowen recognized; he'd do anything for Tate.

"Start walking, I don't have time for this." The walk to the door that lead to the basement was more like an all out run; once the door opened, Dean nearly shoved Bowen down the dark flight of stairs and listened for anything that could be considered Sam or Tate's voice. Once on the cement floor of the basement, both men looked either way into the darkness and found nothing awaiting them.

"Which way?" Bowen asked as Dean crouched to the ground besides a small puddle of water dripping from one of the pipes above him. He didn't have any of the supplies with him, Tate did, and with no flashlight, he couldn't see if there were any foot prints heading away from the water. Pulling out his cell phone, he winced as the bright back light from the screen hit his eyes and quickly turned it away from him, toward the water. Seeing the familiar designs from the soles of Tate's combat boots, he smiled a little as he stood back up and hit the professor on the arm.

"This way." He said over his shoulder as he began to walk down the corridor. As he walked closer toward the hum of the air conditioning unit, he swore he could hear Sam but he wasn't entirely sure if it really was his younger brother or his imagination playing tricks on him. With a few more steps he stood in front of the huge metal cube that most likely supplied the whole art building with cold air and found the ropes Tate had cut away from Sam laying on the ground; a few feet over was her cell phone.

"SAM! SAMMY! Where are you?" Even though Dean knew not to yell and give himself away, he knew he had to in order to find the two of them.

"Dean!" And there it was that familiar call that meant he was needed. Turning back quickly to make sure Bowen was still behind him; he ran toward his brother's voice and hoped that everything would be fine. But it wasn't; Sam sat behind Tate's ever quickly growing pale form, he was pulling her and the ghost, well she wasn't much of a ghost now, apart. Tate's limp body fell against Sam's chest, her head rolled to one side and hair masking her face. She was pale, too pale, and much paler than Tracy's other victims. She wasn't just taking her soul; she was taking everything that was Tate. Dean looked back at Bowen; the expression on his face spoke volumes.

"She is not going to die Dean." He said as he stepped past the younger man and toward where Tracy, now fully restored, sat. She pulled away from Tate, sitting back on her feet and licked her lips, as if she had literally eaten Tate's soul. She was still as pretty as Carl remembered, short blonde hair, pale skin and the brightest blue eyes he had ever seen. She might've been fully solid now, with enough souls to make her look real, but she was still lacking what she needed to be human; the one soul she truly came back for, Carl's.

"Tracy, why? Why did you do that to her? She was only trying to help."

"Help? You mean she was trying to help you and her friends to kill me." Sam watched the two as he pulled Tate close, she felt ice cold in his arms and even though he knew Dean would make fun of him later, he felt a couple tears roll down his cheek. They couldn't lose her again, not after everything and now, Sam didn't know what to do. From where he sat he couldn't hear Carl and Tracy speaking, he wasn't really concerned with that at the moment, all he was worried about was Tate and the lost, shadowed look on Dean's face.

"Dean?" He called, hoping to pull his brother from wherever he was. When Dean did snap out of it, he knelt down by Sam and gently pulled her into his lap and buried his face in her neck. Sam had never really seen his older brother break down; sure everyone cries now and then, he just never thought Dean really did cry.

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Tate had never felt so warm and safe in all of her life. Everything around her was huge, towering over her more than Sam usually did and was white, spell bindingly bright white. She followed the woman who she recognized from many of her dreams around the huge white...well she didn't know if it was a room or what, but she followed her and had to run to catch up.

"Whoa! Can we slow down for a minute? I mean, I died. I'd like to know what's going on and why, all of a sudden you're here." She said to the woman who turned to face her for the first time since they first spoke. The woman looked only a few years older than her with long blonde hair and wore a plain, yet she made it seem much more elegant, white night gown.

"Tate, relax." She heard the voice again and smiled.

"I knew it was you! It's always been you! You're always showing up in my dreams."

"I've always been in your dreams, always protecting you somehow and helping you protect my boys." The woman said as she touched Tate's hand.

"Do you ever show up in the boys' dreams, Mary?" Tate asked as she stepped closer to the woman she only knew through her dreams, pictures and several stories that took hours of torturing the boys to hear.

"Just John's, not so much the boys anymore; Sam dreams about Jess now and Dean, Dean's always dreamt about you." Mary said smiling as Tate turned five shades of red.

"I don't wanna know anything about those dreams."

"Don't worry. It's against the rules to tell you."

"Good." Tate said, laughing nervously.

"And even if I did, I don't think you'd want to hear everything in great detail." And there was the sixth shade. The two women grew quiet for a moment, it unnerved Tate, everything so was quiet and peaceful here; she wasn't used to it and then a question came to mind.

"Am I really dead? Gone forever, that kinda dead?"

"Do you remember what Carl Bowen said to you? A life for a life?"

"Yeah, but that'll only work when Tracy kills him. It won't work for me."

"What if Carl dies before his and her souls have a chance to be exchanged?"

"So, what are you saying? Switch him for me? When he dies, I get to go back?"

"Exactly." Mary said, clasping Tate's hand in hers. "Tracy will be human for a matter of moments, you'll go back to your body, Carl will come up here and then, the boys can take care of her the way they do everything else that they hunt." Mary smiled at the girl in front of her. She only knew Tate through dreams and letters Serena and Ben used to send to her home, but she had never truly seen the real girl. She was beautiful and Mary knew she was quite a fire cracker; tough and cruel on the outside, always ready to explode and yet there was a part of her that was warm and loving. She was perfect for her sons; to love one the way she loved John and to love the other the way Tate already loved him.

"Can I see what's going on down there?" Tate asked in a quiet voice. With a swish of her hand, Mary parted the clouds that they sat upon and opened up the floor beneath them causing Tate to jump back a good ten feet. "Oh my God, I'm up in the air." She gasped.

"You're fine Tate, come over here and watch." It took her a few minutes, but eventually she kneeled down next to Mary and peered downward. It was like she was right over Dean's shoulder. She watched as he held her body to his, he was so close to her she, even all the way up where she was, could smell everything that made up Dean; soap, sweat, gun metal, the scent of the vinyl from the Impala and just a splash of the cologne he swore he never used.

"He's crying, they both are." She stated; she wanted to force her eyes down there to open, to touch Dean, to say something; anything. But she couldn't.

"They think you're gone Tate."

"But I'm not."

"They don't know that." Mary said as they both listened to what Dean was whispering into her hair. His voice was shuddering and breaking off in tears every now and then.

_"Tate please, please come back. Please don't go, I need you here. Who's gonna make sure Sammy doesn't get into some sort of trouble? Like what happened tonight? Getting caught at a bar! Tate please, don't leave me, I can't lose you twice. Okay, the first time I lost you, you moved. But I can't lose you again. I have no idea what I'll do without you. Tate please, I love you." _

And there it was, Tate felt tears of her own falling down her face. Sure, she always knew he loved her, but she never once heard him say it and in return, she never said it to him.

"Mary please, send me back there. I can't leave him like that, it's killing me."

"Give it a minute more." She did, she waited. It felt like the longest moment of her life and then she felt it; a tug at something deep inside her. She felt a like a fish on a hook being reeled into a boat. She didn't resist, she figured if she did the tugging would either get stronger or she'd never get back down there. Her eyes went wide as she was yanked back to reality, Mary's smile and the bright white room was the last thing she saw before slamming back into her body. With a gasp and a jolt, her eyes shot open and she lurched into Dean's arms. She took a long gasping breath and let it out in a cough; Sam jumped at the sound and Dean leaned back to see her face.

"De?" She rasped, her fingers finding the nape of his neck and pressing there. She listened to the sounds around her; Dean whispering into her ears, Sam laughing a little at her and then the familiar thud of a body hitting the ground. It was Carl.

"Tate, what happened?" She shook her head at Dean and pulled her gun from her jeans, handing it to Sam. Sam knew what it was loaded with, real bullets not the rock salt ones and looked back at Tate for a minute.

"Just do it Sam, there's not much time left." She begged, holding onto Dean tighter than ever before. She was afraid that if Sam didn't do what she asked him, she'd wind up back with Mary and never be able to come back. The now, well she was what could be called a zombie, advanced toward the three, Tate's grip on Dean's t-shirt was a death grip, she had no plans on leaving him yet. She couldn't leave.

"You must think you are so clever, I take your soul and somehow you come back with another one. Not many can do that Tatum, you're right, you aren't like everyone else, but you'll still die like everyone else." Tracy said as Sam stood between the two women; the gun ready to be fired if she dared to take another step.

"What are you going to do? Get in my way? I am going to kill her even if I have to kill you and your brother."

"I've heard that threat before and you're not getting Tate. She stays with us."

"Because you both love her?" She cackled, her head thrown backwards.

"Yes." Sam said, laying his finger on the trigger.

"You have no idea what kind of creature you're holding in your arms Dean Winchester, no idea."

"Sam, do it! Do it now!" Tate screamed, she was feeling light headed and didn't know how much longer she'd last. He hesitated though, looking between Dean and Tate and Tracy.

"SAM! Are you deaf, do it! You heard Tate!" And he squeezed the trigger before Dean's shouts got any louder and then he squeezed it three more times for good measure. At first, the bullets did nothing to her, but after awhile they began to smoke and ooze a black slimy goop from the entry wounds. Tracy began to twist, turn and flail, as if she was trying to get away from the bullets. Soon, the light headedness vanished and Tate pushed off of Dean's shoulders to look at her handy work.

"What have you done to me!" Tracy wailed, her body beginning to break down into a pile of ashes.

"Well, I figured there was no way in hell we were going to be able to get close enough to slice you into pieces with a silver laced blade, so we melted silver down to liquid form and filled the bullets with it." Tate said beaming.

"NO! NO! My work isn't done! I warned you Winchester! You have no idea wh…." And then with a roar and a blast of light, she exploded. Tate dove back into Dean's shoulder, her eyes clamped shut and waited till the roaring in her ears went away. When it was all over, Sam dropped the gun back into Tate's bag which lay a few feet away from where they all sat and came back over to the two of them, his hand on one of Tate's shoulders.

"Tate, wanna tell us now what happened to you?" Dean asked, brushing her hair away from her face.

"Yeah, you scared the shit outta us Tate, we thought we really lost you." Sam said, leaning down so he could hear what she was going to say. Tate chewed on her bottom lip, the way she always did when she got nervous and looked at them both.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." She said, giving Sam a peck on the cheek and then looping her arms around Dean's neck, moving around in his lap so her lips were level with his ear.

"I love you, you know." She said, moving again so she could look him in the eye. "I figured I say it back since you said it to me earlier."

"You heard that?" He asked, his eyes wide.

"I heard everything you said."

"But how?"

"I mean it, you won't believe me if I tell you."

"Oh, I want to know now." Dean said.

"Can I get some sleep first and then I'll tell you both later?" She asked, sticking out her bottom lip and giving Dean the puppy dog eyes. And then she turned to Sammy, puppy dog eyes and lip still going strong.

"Dean, make her stop the face. I can't handle that. Let's go back to the hotel, get some sleep and then she can tell us later."

"Fine, fine. You both win, but you are so telling us."

"I promise Dean, Jesus, I'll tell ya." She said as Sam stood back up to his full height and then offered her a hand up. Once back on her feet, she gave him a hug and smiled.

"Don't ever do that to us again Tate."

"I won't Sammy, I won't." She said in between yawns.

"I'll go find your stuff." He said, walking around the corner and giving the two a moment alone.

"So what do we do about the good Professor?" Dean asked as he snaked an arm around her waist and rested his hand on her hip. Both of them looked down at the body, an image passed through Tate's mind, if she didn't come back, that's how she would've looked. Shivering, Dean's grip got a little tighter and she leaned back into him.

"I have no idea, call my mom?"

"Sounds good. But come here first." Tate smiled and let herself be pulled into him.

"What's up Dean?"

"What's up? I just saw you die and come back, I'm a little shaken; a little is an understatement."

"Sorry Dean."

"Don't be. I know you promised Sam you wouldn't do that again, but seriously, no more stupid shit. I don't think I can do this again."

"I won't, I mean it. I have no plans on going back where I was for a very long time."

"What do you mean? Where were you?"

"I have no idea really, it was warm and white. So, maybe Heaven, I dunno." Dean started to laugh. "Why are you laughing? You don't think I'll go to Heaven? I am a good person." She said, slapping him on the arm.

"All right, I won't laugh, I won't laugh. You are a good person, you put up with me and Sammy."

"Damn right I do."

"So is that the part we wouldn't believe?"

"No, this is. I saw your mom." Dean's face went blank for a minute, Tate didn't know if he was going to scream, cry, smile or just shrug it off. "Dean?"

"I'm okay, I just wasn't ready for that. Did she talk to you?"

"Yeah, she helped me get back here." Dean smiled, that was a good enough answer for him and kissed Tate on the lips.

"Can we leave now Dean? I need a shower and about a day off sleep."

"Go find Sam. And please, be careful." Tate nodded and took off to find Sam. Dean stayed back a minute, looked up to where the sky would be if he could see it and smiled.

"Thanks mom." And then he took off to find the other two.


	17. Boston Bound

Chapter 15- Boston Bound

Tate sat in one of the many seats that lined the waiting area for American Airlines Flight 805 to Boston and tapped her nails on the chair's arm rest as she counted off the rings coming through her cell phone from the other line. She listened to the familiar purr of the ringing and sighed when the voice mail picked up. Bypassing the greeting, her mind quickly thought up something to say to the answering machine.

"Hey daddy, it's me. Umh…I know that when we talked the other day I said some mean things but look, you know me, I'm sorry. Look, we really need to talk. I found out some more stuff about the Wendigos. Give me a call; I'm going back to Boston today. I really miss you and tell Ryan I said hi too. Love you, bye dad." She closed her phone and tossed it in her pocket just as Sam and Dean came back from the small coffee shop that wasn't too far from where she was sitting, Dean handing her a cup of coffee with milk and half a sugar. Looking into the cup, she smiled and stirred it a little.

"I didn't ask you for it or told you how I take it."

"I remembered okay?"

"Yeah." She said, taking a sip.

"Who was that on the phone? Work?" Sam asked as he stole a seat on one side of her, leaving the other open for Dean.

"Nope, I tried calling my dad."

"You didn't get him?"

"No, he didn't pick up."

"Maybe he didn't hear it."

"That's what bothers me Sam. The man knows when to…." She stopped mid sentence and pulled her phone from her pocket, her eyes going wide when she read the caller ID;_ **Work. **_"Shit!" She hissed, jumped to her feet and then looked at the guys. "Sorry but I have to take this; I'll be right back." Tate threw over her shoulder as she jogged to the women's bathroom, phone all ready glued to her ear. Once in the bathroom, she finally allowed herself to slow down and let out a breath.

"Tatum King speaking."

"Alex Kelly, your soon to be former editor, speaking."

"Hey Alex."

"Don't 'hey Alex' me, where the hell are you?"

"In the ladies room in the South Terminal at LAX."

"LAX? What the hell are you doing in LAX!"

"I was doing work out here, finishing up an article on all of those dark room deaths, I told you before I left."

"Yes, you said you only going to Maine."

"Well, I got caught up. Sorry."

"You got so caught up you wound up on the other coast?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Tate said with a smug grin and could practically hear Alex seething on the other line.

"King, I swear, if you don't get your ass back in work by Tuesday morning, all of the things from your desk will be waiting for you in your parking space, do you hear me?" He all but roared in her ear, he was so loud that Tate held the phone an arms length away and could still hear him fine. A woman walking toward the sinks made a face at her, only to get an all ready pulled too tight fake smile from Tate and a shrug.

"It's my boss." She said as the woman turned the water on. Bringing the phone back to her ear; Alex still in the middle of a rant, she sighed and waited for him to either stop or run of breath and hopefully have a heart attack.

"Did you hear what I said King?" He said, sounding as if the rant was finally over.

"Yes and I'll be at my desk Tuesday bright and early."

"You better be." He said as he finally hung up and Tate wrapped her fingers around the phone so hard she thought she'd break it. Running a hand through her hair, Tate walked back out to the waiting area and found Sam and Dean standing near where they had been sitting, Dean had her bag over his shoulder.

"What's going on?" She asked, getting closer to them.

"Boarding is starting." Sam said, looking at her with a somewhat sad smile.

"Oh." Was all Tate could think of as Sam all but crushed her against his chest, pulling her in for the tightest hug she had ever gotten.

"Have a safe flight and give us a call when you get in."

"Of course I will, you guys'll be the first call I make." And it was true, since she had no one else really to call and tell she was back in Boston. Letting her go, he pushed her back and pressed a kiss to her cheek; Tate's laugh echoed through out the waiting area when he turned it into a raspberry.

"Get off of me you big freak." She giggled, pushing him away and turning around to look at Dean. She didn't want to go, it struck her as odd; when she was here a little more than a week ago in the same waiting area coming out of the jet way, she didn't want to stay, but now, it was taking every ounce of will power to make her legs move toward the same jet way. Sam coughed a little before muttering something about running to the bathroom before heading back to the car; leaving Tate and Dean to stare at each other.

Stuffing her hands in the front pockets of her jeans, Tate rocked back onto her heels and sighed, it felt like high school all of a sudden, and when Dean mirrored her actions she lost it, giggling softly again.

"We're adults Winchester, I think we can handle a simple 'see ya later'." She told him as she stepped into his personal space and leaned against his chest, her eyes looking up at his jaw, which she quickly jumped to her tippy toes to kiss.

"Tate..."

"Dean, here." She said, pulling out a slip of paper from her back pocket and pressing it into his hand.

"What is it?"

"Open it when I leave." She said as Sam began walking back towards them.

Hearing her seat number called, she pulled Dean down for a kiss and smiled on his lips when his eyes went wide; it was like she was trying to suck out his soul, but he wouldn't tell her that, but the kiss did feel like they were teenagers again. When she pulled away she patted him on the cheek, flashed him a smirk that looked too much like his own, gave Sam a quick hug and took off toward the line of passengers, boaring pass in hand. A few minutes later Tate disappeared down the jet way, her duffle bag over her shoulder and a small smile tugging on her lips. Back in the waiting area Dean looked down at the small folded piece of paper she placed in his hand and looked to his brother.

"What's that?"

"She gave it to me."

"Well, are you going to read it?" Sam asked looking at him as if he was insane.

"Of course I am, jerk." Sam rolled his eyes and looked to the jet way, Tate still stood there and gave him one last wave. Smiling, he watched her finally round the corner to board the plane and turned back to his brother.

"You opened it. What is it?"

"The address to the hotel she lives in and the room number, her office number's on here too."

"At least we can find her this time."

"Shut up Sam. we never needed to find her, she always came back." He said as he began to walk away from the gate, heading back out through secuirty and out into the parking lot. Unlocking the Impala, he rested folded his arms on the roof and looked over at Sam who was looking back at him.

"Where to now Dean?" Sam asked as Dean glanced quickly at the paper still in his hand.

"85 Terminal Rd, suite number 1056." He said, ducking into the car as Sam laughed.

**The End**

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina

For eigth o'clock on a Saturday night the stretch of high way that lay only fifteen miles from the beach was empty. Weekend traffic couldn't be gone Michael thought as his best friend Jack read him directions to the hotel they were staying at for the next couple days. Michael's sixteen year old sister Brittney sat in the backseat, with her iPod so loud he found himself nodding along to the beat. Next to Brittney was Michael's girlfriend Olivia, her head resting against the window, sound asleep.

"Jack, what exit is it again?"

"Umh...113. We just passed 115, we're almost there." He said as the head lights on the Camry lit up the exit sign. Jack leaned the seat back as far it could go, an inch away from pinning Olivia to her seat. Feeling the pressure on her knees, Liv's eyes snapped opened and caught Jack's smiling face in front of her.

"Put your seat back up dick head. Mike, why did he have to come along?"

"He's my best friend Liv, do we have to go over this again?"

"Yeah Livvie-poo, I'm the best friend." Jack taunted. As a small fight broke out between his friend and girlfriend, Michael slowed up a little at the sight of a car broken down on the side of the road with two young women sitting on the guard rail, each seeming to be searching for service on their cell phones.

"Well you know what Olivia fu...Mike, why are we slowing down? We have to get to the hotel by nine or we have to wait to check tomorrow."

"Look out your window Jack, those girls, I think we should help them."

"Mike! Dad said not to do shit like that."

"And he also said you aren't allowed to curse." Brittney kicked the back of his seat hard enough that he hit his knee on the steering wheel. Michael, despite Jack, Olivia and Brittney's complaints, slowed down to help the girls. Rolling Jack's window down, he leaned over and watched the older of the two girls, a brunette with stunning blue eyes walk over.

"Do you girls need some help?" He asked, never once seeing the way the light from the full moon played upon their features, how their tanned skin began to change, how long flowing hair became coarse and tangled,and how normal sized canines began to form into a mouth full of razor sharp teeth.

**...Guess it isn't the end huh?**


	18. Last Author's Note

Last Author's Note

Hey! Well, if you're reading this, you've read the last chapter of Dark Room. Hope you guys all enjoyed the story and Tate. She's become my favorite character. And since you read the last chapter, you read the small 'trailer' type thing for the new story Dark Roads. I hope you kinda got what I'm doing for this story. Thanks for reading and leaving the best reviews, especially those who reviewed through out the entire story from when I first posted it in April till now. I love all of the reviews and hope you do the same for Dark Roads.

So, I'm gonna leave you with this; I hope you liked the "teaser" and get ready to find the new story sometime soon.

Bright Eyez


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